


Sherlock One Shots

by AbsRuthSJML



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case, Cute, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Just all the fluff, M/M, No Smut, Sherlolly - Freeform, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 26,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28807329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsRuthSJML/pseuds/AbsRuthSJML
Summary: Just some fluffy one shots I wrote when I couldn't sleep. (Which is often - we love insomnia). Enjoy!
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. Sherlock's Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is doing John's head in, as usual...

Pacing. He was pacing from the kitchen, right past John, to his chair, and back again. It was doing John's head in. Sherlock had just finished a case, a little over two hours before, and was already huffing and complaining because he didn't have another. John was trying to do some online shopping, in light that he had very little clothing, due to Sherlock using it in his experiments to test different materials. Sherlock huffed, as he passed John, and that was the final straw.

"If you don't mind, Sherlock, I am trying to do something here, and you pacing and huffing is seriously starting to piss me off.", John told him.

"I'm bored, John... What am I supposed to do? I can't smoke. You won't let me. I can't shoot the wall. You won't let me. You won't play Cluedo with me...", he whinged like a child.

"You know why I refuse to play Cluedo with you Sherlock. I'm not putting myself through that again, thank you very much. Anyway... If you're bored, why don't you go and buy that milk that you said you were buying yesterday?"

“Boring."

"Well, don't complain to me when there isn't any for your tea. I am busy, so I'm not going."

"You are shopping online. I'd hardly say you were busy, John."

"Yes, but I am shopping online to replace the clothes that you took and burned. Do you remember leaving me with one pair of socks in my drawer, or has that escaped your mind, that it was my clothes you used for that experiment and not your own?"

"Well, of course I didn't use my own clothes, John. Don't be ridiculous. That would cause a large inconvenience to myself. Why would I do that?"

"Oh, so you didn't stop and think, for a second, that burning half of my wardrobe would be an inconvenience to me?", John near-shouted. Before Sherlock replied, he carried on, "Of course you didn't, Sherlock, because I'm not important. If you inconvenience those around you, it doesn't matter. As long as what you're doing doesn't impact you in any way."

Sherlock stopped pacing, at John's words, and just stood, staring. He seemed shocked to hear those words come from John... John always seemed to just get on with whatever Sherlock had thrown his way, without so much as a groan, let alone a rant such as this one.

"I... I am sorry, John. I don't think. You're totally right."

That shocked John, making him nearly drop his laptop, that was precariously balanced on his lap.

"Well, thank you for the apology. It's just... You know, for a highly intelligent man, you can be thick sometimes. Sure, you know a vast amount about science and history and the happenings of the world, but if you don't treat people with respect, Sherlock, all of that other stuff means nothing. I love you, Sherlock... You're my best friend, and I wouldn't change you for the world. I just, sometimes, wish you'd think before doing things that are going to affect others."

"I am going to try, John. I can't promise it'll happen straight away, but I can try. And, erm... You're a good man too, John.", Sherlock smiled, a rare, genuine smile, and John knew that was all he was going to get, in means of Sherlock acknowledging their friendship, but he also knew that saying those words was a huge deal for Sherlock. And, for that, John couldn't be anymore grateful.

After an hour, or so, of comfortable silence, with John finishing his online shopping, and Sherlock slipping into his mind palace, Sherlock's phone lit up, with a phone call from Lestrade. John didn't need to hear the conversation to know that Sherlock was being offered a case, due to the look on Sherlock's face. As soon as he got off the phone, Sherlock ran to get his coat, scarf and gloves.

"Aren't you coming, John?", he asked, as he pulled his coat collar up, making John smirk a little.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world.", he smiled, jumping up from his chair and pulling his coat on, over his jumper.

"Well then, in that case... The game is on.", Sherlock stated before beginning to bound down the stairs, his coat billowing out behind him.

Rolling his eyes, John muttered to himself, "Always the drama queen.", before running after his taller friend, who (no doubt) had already hailed a cab - which he seemed to be very good at.


	2. Rosie Learns to Argue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie is at an age where the word 'no' is repeated way too much for Sherlock's liking...

On the rare occasion, where John was working, and no one else was available, Sherlock would step up to his role of Godfather, and look after Rosie for a few hours during the week. He actually found it fascinating to look after her, due to her being so young and still developing and learning.

"Okay, Rosie... Dada left me with his Netflix, so what do you want to watch?", Sherlock asked her, as she climbed onto his knee, and looked towards the television.

"Er... I want watch Alvin, Unc Lock.", she replied, grinning madly up at him. Sherlock couldn't help but smile whenever she did that, scolding himself mentally every time afterwards for going soft.

Sherlock searched through the different shows, until he got to Alvin. He pressed play, and then picked up the science research paper he had procured, as he was not stooping so low as to sit and watch chipmunks talk and get into trouble.

Sherlock was one sentence into reading when Rosie said, "Ugh... Unc Lock. No. I want to watch Peppa."

"But you said you want to watch Alvin, so that is why I put it on."

"No, Unc Lock. Peppa."

Sighing, Sherlock picked up the television remote and then proceeded to change the show to Peppa Pig, which was even more drivel than Alvin.

Once it was on, and he was satisfied that Rosie was going to sit nicely, on his lap, and watch it, he turned his attentions back to the research paper.

Once again, after reading a couple of sentences, Rosie said, "No, Unc Lock. I want Paw Patrol."

"Rosie. Pick something and watch it. I am not going to keep changing what is on, so you can watch this."

"No."

"Rosie, I am not arguing with you... You are going to watch what you asked to watch, which was Peppa Pig. You can't keep changing your mind."

"Can."

"No, Rosie, you can't. And, anyway, you wouldn't even be watching anything if your Dad hadn't have left his Netflix, so you are going to watch this, and we're not going to argue about it."

"I want Paw Patrol."

"No, Rosie. I have told you."

"I want it."

"No, Rosie."

"Please, Unc Lock.", she pleaded, pulling her cutest face, that always won over her Godmother, Molly.

"No, Rosie. I am not so easily swayed by your cuteness as your Godmother is. You must remember... I don't do sentimentality, which is why you probably like your Aunt Molly more than you like me, but then so does everyone else, so there is no change there.", Sherlock stated, rather matter-of-factly.

Rosie's bottom lip then began to wobble, in an attempt to get her own way by making a scene, and crying.

"No, Rosie.", Sherlock stated.

She then let rip and began wailing, crying and screaming, "I want Paw Patrol."

"You are just like your bloody Father, Rosie. He's a drama queen.". Sherlock told her.

"Not as much of a drama queen as you, though.", he heard, not bothering to look who had just walked in because he knew who it was.

"You took your time... It seems that your child has developed a skill in arguing and manipulation. God, she is Mary's daughter.", Sherlock said.

"I know... At least she doesn't take after me, though. That would have been a disaster.". John chuckled, as Rosie calmed down, due the arrival of her Father.

"Yes. It would have been.", Sherlock replied.


	3. Doctor Watson gets a Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John picks Rosie up from 221B, after a day at the surgery, and gets a pleasant surprise...

A year had passed since the passing of his wife and, although it still hurt every time he looked at Rosie, it had become slightly more bearable. John had graciously declined Sherlock's offer to move back into Baker Street, with his habits not being appropriate for a child as young as Rosie to witness or be around, but he did still spend half of his time there. Due to the troubles with Eurus, and the importance of the case to the British Government, John no longer needed to work, as he had all his expenses paid for by Mycroft's team. Although, John knew this was not standard practice and that it was the work of Mycroft, as an apology for being so rude, so that Sherlock would want to shoot Mycroft and not John, when the issue arose.

John was often out on cases, with Sherlock, so he called upon the help of Molly and Mrs Hudson, to babysit when he knew they were going to be home late. Both women didn't object, of course, because Rosie was a dream to look after but John hated leaving her all the same. Often, if Molly was working, Mrs Hudson would have Rosie during the day and then Molly would take over. Sometimes, even if John was not chasing Sherlock around the streets of London, Molly would often visit Baker Street when John was there with Rosie.

On one particular day, John had graciously offered his services at the surgery, due to them being short-staffed, so that left Sherlock with Rosie, as Mrs Hudson was away and Molly was working but was due to finish around lunch time.

As John climbed the steps to 221B, he was weary. The day at the surgery had been busy but also insanely boring. He had seen bunions, common colds, puss-filled cists and even an ingrowing toe nail. He was expecting his child to be either screaming or shouting, as was usual when he had to leave her with Sherlock, although it had only (luckily) been because she was upset once.

The sight he found upon entry to the flat was not on he had ever expected to see. For one, Rosie was asleep, which he even found difficult to achieve. Sherlock was sat on the sofa, slumped slighty, snoring quietly, with a certain Molly Hooper, also asleep, sat next to him, curled up into his side, with her head resting on his shoulder. Rosie was lay across both of her godparents, with her head on Molly's lap and her legs splayed across Sherlock's lap. Not wanting to spoil the quiet, John just stood in the doorway, watching the tranquillity, and smiled. He even took a picture and sent it to Lestrade, for good measure. The good thing about sending it to Lestrade meant that Mycroft would also see it. Ever since Lestrade's promise to keep an eye on Mycroft, after Eurus, to Sherlock, the two men seemed to never be out of each other's company. And, although they didn't tell anyone, even John had noticed them holding hands under the table at a dinner at the Holmes', which had been attended by John, Rosie, Molly and Sherlock, as well as Lestrade and Mycroft.

John made himself a cup of coffee, needing the caffeine to wake him up a little and then sat in his chair, enjoying the peace and quiet, which rarely ever graced the rooms of 221B Baker Street. After around 20 minutes, Rosie began to stir, so John quietly picked her up off her godparents and wrote them a note, to say he'd gone home and took Rosie with him, leaving it on the coffee table in front of the sleeping pair. John was able to leave 221B without too much fuss from his daughter, due to her still being fairly sleepy, and made his way home (despite being tired) with a huge smile on his face.


	4. His Blogger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John helps Sherlock with an experiment...

When Sherlock sat at the kitchen table for hours at a time, setting things on fire and staring at different slides, John had learned that it was best to leave him alone. For this particular case, Sherlock needed to know the differences in different types of cells, and with John's medical background, had asked for his help. John dug out one of his old textbooks, which had been in storage for years, and showed Sherlock the configuration drawings of the cells he was looking at, glad that, for once, he was able to teach Sherlock something, rather than Sherlock knowing everything and him being stood there, not understanding a thing.

"Thank you for your help, John. I know I am awful to you, sometimes, but I appreciate your help when your expertise on a topic are superior to my own."

"Are you ill?", John asked.

"I'm perfectly fine, John. Why do you ask?", Sherlock questioned.

"You just thanked me without having to be forced to.", John chuckled, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes.

"I am capable of being a bit good sometimes, John, contrary to popular belief.", Sherlock told him.

"I know. You're a big softie, really. Don't worry, though. Your secret is safe with me, Sherlock.", John smiled.

Sherlock's lips pulled up at the corners a little, a smile threatening to break. Not one of those smiles he faked though, in front of clients and on cases. A genuine smile reserved for the best, which included his blogger, John Watson.

The rest of that afternoon was spent in a pleasant silence, which was rare in the walls of 221B Baker Street. Often, there were buffs of boredom, shouting about cases or holes being blown into the wall with John's gun. Mrs Hudson was worried something was terribly wrong and even found herself missing the racket that usually floated down to her flat from the boys. It was in the silence that Sherlock appreciated John the most. As Sherlock worked at his experiment, John would hand him things he needed, without him needing to ask and every couple of hours and cup of tea or coffee would appear next to him, seemingly outbid thin air. John Watson had saved the life of Sherlock Holmes, the high functioning sociopath with a talent for solving difficult crimes and a habit of shooting up and getting high. But then Sherlock Holmes had provided sanctuary for John Watson. The soldier who never returned from the war found himself the perfect companion in the strange detective, getting the adrenaline kick and thrill he needed, all whilst finding himself happier than he had ever been. John Watson felt safe by Sherlock's side, even when they were running head-first into danger. The consulting detective was nothing without his blogger. And John's blog would be very mundane without his high functioning sociopath.


	5. Friends with Royalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes bullies don't know the half of it...

Edward Rudy Lestrade-Holmes was 4 years old, and had just started primary school, when people began to bully him for things he didn't understand. One boy made the rest of the class laugh at him for having two dads and he didn't understand why. Growing up, Eddie had been surrounded by more homosexual couples than heterosexual ones. His Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John had always been together and his cousins, Rosie and Oliver, had never seemed to be bothered that they had two dads. It wasn't that Eddie was upset that he had two dads. In fact, he loved it. After all, his Dad was a high-ranking police officer and his Papa practically was the British government. His older sister, Morwenna Jessica Lestrade-Holmes, had never mentioned anything about being bullied for having two dads, though. So, Eddie got really upset. His Papa had seen it in his face.

"Eddie? What's wrong?", his Papa asked.

"Billy made everyone laugh at me because I have two dads, Papa, and I don't understand why.", he admitted.

By that time, his Dad and older sister had joined them in the living room.

"Oh, Eddie... It's because they have a Mummy and Daddy and some people don't think that two men or two women should be together.", his Dad explained, sitting on the sofa next to his Papa, and pulling him onto his knee.

"But that's stupid. Rosie and Ollie have two dads. It doesn't mean that we have less love or care because we don't have a Mummy.", Eddie replied.

"Exactly. You just ignore them, Ed. I did.", Morwenna smiled.

"And, if it gets worse, then Papa will talk to the school.", his Dad added.

Mycroft Lestrade-Holmes was very good at putting the fear of God into people, especially if the situation involved his husband or children. He was a very powerful man and would not hesitate, for one second, to pull rank when he needed to.

When Morwenna had been 3 years old, Mycroft had been needed at the palace. However, Greg was working and the Watson-Holmes pair were off on a private case (with Rosie and Oliver being left in the care of their godmother, Martha Hudson), which meant Mycroft had to take his daughter to the palace with him, leaving her in the capable hands of Anthea whilst he attended to business. It did not go to plan, however, as Morwenna had kicked up a fuss. Luckily, the Queen did not mind speaking to Mycroft as his daughter napped across his lap. In fact, the Queen fell in love with the little girl, which is why the Lestrade-Holmes children were often invited to go and play with the Cambridge children.

Greg had laughed so much at the thought of his children being friends and having play-dates with royals, but it became normal, in the end. Greg had even enjoyed the odd dinner party with Kate and Will, much to the delight of his husband, who was glad Greg had become immune to the couple being royal and just saw them as friends. Mycroft was in his element, when amongst royalty, and Greg Lestrade-Holmes found his husband extremely hot when he spoke all diplomatically. The pair also loved how the royals did not treat them differently, because they were gay. In the royal couple's eyes, they were just two people in love, who had decided to bring up a family. And the Lestrade-Holmes pair couldn't be more grateful. Will, in fact, took a great interest in Greg's work and always asked about his cases. Greg was all too happy to oblige the future King of England by answering his questions.

"Screw what Billy says, Ed. He's not friends with royalty.", Morwenna told her brother, causing him to giggle and her dads to begin to chuckle a little.


	6. The Question of a Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds something out about John that, in all the years they had known each other, he would never have guessed...

"Sherlock? Your phone is ringing.", John shouted from the living room. Sherlock was sat at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to his microscope.

"As ever, John, your ability to point out the obvious astounds me.", Sherlock replied, just as his phone seemed to become more persistent and it seemed that whoever was ringing was not going to give up.

"Answer it.", John told him, appearing in the kitchen, with an empty tea cup that needed to be washed.

"It will be Mycroft. Just ignore it."

"No, Sherlock, because when you ignore him, he either phones me, picks me up off the street when I am trying to buy milk, or he will turn up here physically (which I know you don't want)."

"Fine.", Sherlock huffed, picking his phone up off the table and answering it.

"Brother Mine... I am surprised you actually answered. I shall have to remember to thank Doctor Watson.", Mycroft said, causing Sherlock to sneer at the sound of a smirk in his brother's voice.

"Just get on with it, Mycroft... I'm sure you have more important things to be getting on with, like stopping wars. Or is it starting them?"

"Very funny.", Mycroft dead-panned. "I wanted to arrange an appropriate time for you and John, and of course Rosamund, to come for dinner, with Mummy and Father."

"No."

"Sherlock... Don't you think that after the year we have had, as a family, that this needs to occur?"

"Fine.", Sherlock huffed, before hanging up.

A moment later, John's phone began ringing, causing him to sigh. He knew who it was without even having to look at it.

"Mycroft.", John greeted.

"John. When are you, Sherlock and Rosamund free to come for dinner with my parents?", Mycroft asked plainly.

"Tell me when you have organised it for and I'll drag his skinny arse out of the house.", John replied.

"It is much appreciated, John. Goodbye."

"Bye."

"So... Dinner with your parents.", John said to Sherlock, as he picked Rosie up from the sofa, who had woken up from her nap.

"Yes.", Sherlock replied, as he began to pack his experiment away. He knew the rules. No experiments when Rosie was awake. That left him the times, at night, when Rosie was in bed and the times, during the day, when Rosie was napping.

"At Mycroft's or your parents?", John asked.

"Mycroft's.", Sherlock replied.

"Just no drugging everyone this time."

"I don't think that would be wise, John, with a member of Scotland Yard present.", Sherlock smiled, as the last of his experiment was stored on the top of the fridge, out of reach of little, inquisitive fingers.

"Who? Greg? Why would Greg be there?", John questioned.

"Because the dinner is being used as a whole 'meet the parents' dinner."

"You don't mean..."

"Yes, I do mean. Don't worry. It nauseates me too."

"It's not that. I just didn't know that Greg was gay."

"He's not. He's bisexual."

"Oh, right, yeah... Like me.", John smiled.

"What?"

"I'm bisexual."

"But I didn't think you were into men because of the whole 'I'm not gay' business."

"That's because I'm not gay. I'm bisexual."

"Right... Yes.", Sherlock said, his face contorted in a mixture of confusion and delight.

"We need milk. Watch Rosie?"

"As if you even need to ask, John.", Sherlock stated, rolling his eyes and taking Rosie off John.

"Okay. I won't be long.", John said, before kissing Rosie on the cheek. Instead of leaving straight away, he also kissed Sherlock on the cheek, before taking off down the stairs, leaving Sherlock to wonder what the hell had just happened.


	7. Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie is a clever little girl and knows it...

"Okay, Rosie... Pick which sweets you would like, sweetheart.", Molly said to her goddaughter. They were out food shopping, as Sherlock and John were off on a case and Mrs Hudson was visiting her sister.

"Can I have Sherbet Lemons, please, Auntie Molly?", the little girl asked.

"Erm... Are you sure? They're really sour."

"I know. But Papa and Uncle Mycroft don't like them, so it means they won't steal them. Daddy likes them but he always asks if he can share.", Rosie explained. Molly smiled. She picked sweets she liked, but sweets that she knew Sherlock and Mycroft didn't like, so they wouldn't eat them all before she got a chance to have any. That kid was smart.

"Sherbet Lemons it is.", Molly smiled, adding them to the trolley.

Two days later, Sherlock was in the kitchen, and Rosie was colouring, sat on the floor in between the armchairs, whilst John updated his blog.

"Who brought Sherbet Lemons into the flat?", Sherlock asked, scowling.

"They're Rosie's. She picked them when she went shopping with Molly the other day, whilst we were out on the case.", John replied, not looking up from his laptop.

"She usually picks Haribos.", Sherlock said. "I don't like Sherbet Lemons."

"Exactly why she picked them, love. Now am I going to get a cup of tea sometime before Christmas?", John asked, smiling.

"She's too smart for her own good."

"Well, she is your daughter. What did you expect?", John asked, as Sherlock handed him a cup of tea. "Maybe this will teach you to ask, if you want to share her sweets."

"Hmm...", Sherlock simply hummed, before placing a kiss to his partner's cheek and sitting in his armchair.

"They are all mine, Papa!", Rosie grinned, causing John to chuckle. And as hard as he tried, Sherlock couldn't bring himself to scowl.


	8. Well. That Was Unexpected...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens at pick-up time which leaves John a little perplexed...

By all accounts, it was just another normal day in 221B Baker Street. With it being a weekday, the now 5 year old Rosie Watson was at school. John was doing some online banking (sorting out the movement of money into his and Sherlock's accounts from the payments they had received from private clients). Sherlock seemed to be doing some sort of experiment, but John hadn't been paying attention to his babbling. Sometimes, he could go out for hours, and come back, and Sherlock would still be babbling. It was quite comforting. And he had missed the constant stream of nonsense when he had been with Mary. Mary spoke quite a lot but it was always succinct and always needed an answer or an affirmation. John was actually fond of the babbling.

Anyhow, all was calm. The time came for Rosie to be picked up from school and John was surprised when Sherlock got his coat on and joined him on the school run. Usually, Sherlock only joined John on a Tuesday and Thursday, if he wasn't occupied with a case. And it was a Wednesday. Sherlock didn't bring it up, however, so John didn't either. They simply walked together, in a comfortable silence, the twenty minutes that it took to get to Rosie's primary school.

They stood at the school gates, waiting, as they had got there 5 minutes early, and John engaged in a simple conversation with one of the Mum's of a girl from Rosie's class (who was clearly flirting with John but getting nowhere). She was relentless in her efforts, however. So, Sherlock simply, as the woman was talking, wrapped his arm around John's shoulder, and pulled him in closer. John threw Sherlock a questioning look, to get one of 'go with this' in reply. John simply carried on listening to the woman, who was complaining about the homework their children were being given.

"Don't you think it's a little much at their age?", the woman asked.

"Er...", John stuttered.

"Rosie has been able to recite the whole of the periodic table since she was 3. A bit of homework doesn't do her any harm, right, love?", Sherlock smiled.

"Right.", John nodded, smiling a bit, also.

"Our little genius.", Sherlock added, placing a kiss to John's temple, for good measure. And, John found it wasn't exactly unwelcome.

"Dad! Pa!", Rosie said, as she ran towards them.

"Hey, little bee. How was school today?", Sherlock asked, letting go of John and picking Rosie up, placing her on his hip. It did help, massively, that they had decided to co-parent, and that Rosie called him Pa.

"Alright. Why are you here today? You never come on a Wednesday.", Rosie questioned.

"Well, I promised you Angelo's before my last case, and we haven't been yet, so we're going tonight.", Sherlock replied.

"We are?", John asked.

"We are. Lovely to talk to you, er..."

"Susan.", John muttered.

"Susan.", Sherlock said, with a big fake smile, putting Rosie down. The trio then walked away, Rosie in the middle, holding a hand of each of her Fathers, chatting away to them happily.

As John lay in bed that night, after a nice family dinner out, he couldn't help but think about the way Sherlock had come to his rescue.

"Well. That was unexpected.", he said aloud, before turning onto his side and falling into a peaceful slumber.


	9. A Welcome Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Holmes has a heart after all, and it belongs to a certain member of Scotland Yard...

Mycroft Holmes was far from what he would consider as a 'nice' person, especially in a professional capacity, but his staff knew otherwise. They received thoughtful, personal gifts on their birthdays and at christmas and you would have to be blind not to see the genuine affection the man held for his younger brother. The 'Ice Man' facade scared the living daylights out of those who didn't really know him. He was a stern man, when he wanted to be, but that was so he could get results. Quickly.

Mycroft had been working for MI6 for a long time before they moved out of River House. That, however, didn't stop pompous pricks, who thought they knew everything, from trying to undermine him. That never went well for the other person. And Mycroft didn't even need to try in those situations.

However important his work was to him, Mycroft Holmes, in more recent years, found his attention being divided. A certain divorced, silver-haired Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard had caught his eye years before, when said officer was still married. The way that Greg Lestrade had dropped everything and had cared, unconditionally, for his brother made Mycroft's heart skip a beat. Mycroft had only ever dreamed of finding someone who cared for his brother as nearly as much as he did himself. And Greg had proven that after only the second time of meeting the young consulting detective. He stayed by his hospital bed, along with Mycroft, having felt something that meant he couldn't bring himself to walk away from the young drug addict. And Greg admired, greatly, how much Mycroft did and cared for his younger brother and was only too eager to help. Greg hated seeing Sherlock throw away his talent and beautiful mind. And it helped that Greg found Mycroft's presence and company a little too nice. Not that he would have ever admitted that to the eldest Holmes at the the time, however.

After the 'Sherrinford situation', as John Watson had poetically named it, Mycroft Holmes found himself finding comfort in the little things that Greg did to show him he wasn't only there for his younger brother. The small gifts the found themselves in Mycroft's offices in Whitehall and the Diogenes club - the cactus, the solar-powered nodding dog that was wearing a deer stalker, and even a novelty dinosaur pen holder (which Mycroft had immediately put in the place his bog-standard one). The way that Greg would just show up at his house, unannounced, with a bottle of Mycroft's favourite whiskey, despite it being extremely expensive. And the way that, whenever they saw each other, whether in a personal or professional capacity, Greg would squeeze his shoulder, or his arm, or even (on one more memorable occasion, in a meeting with the superintendent) wrap his arm around the back of the chair Mycroft was sat in.

It was the little things that, gradually, turned into dinner dates, which turned into day trips, which then led to weekends away, where they didn't see anything except each other and the four walls of whatever luxury hotel Mycroft had booked for them. And it was beautiful.

However, Mycroft Holmes found all these things to be a welcome distraction from his work. And he was more than grateful, those few years later, when he knew he was going home to a husband who loved and cared for his brother as much as he did. And it didn't hurt that he found his husband a little too hot for public consumption and, with his husband being an officer of the law, he didn't want to commit an act of public indecency, did he? That would never do.


	10. Molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the lab, by Sherlock and John, leaves Molly to come to a certain conclusion...

Molly Hooper had accepted, a long time ago, that Sherlock Holmes was never going to see her in the same way she saw him. His beautiful eyes that seemed to change colour and twist into patterns, with his sharp cheek bones, masses of curly hair, and gorgeous cupid-bow lips. She knew she had to move on. She had tried online dating, which had been an absolute disaster (especially that one date where she had to text her friend, Meena, an SOS). Online dating was definitely not for her. She had tried the whole spinster life too, doing what she wanted, when she wanted, and not caring. However, she did care, which was a problem.

The phone call from Sherrinford, which was explained to her at a later date, where Sherlock apologised profusely for any distress it had caused her, was tough. But after the full explanation of what had happened, from Greg (who had heard it straight from Mycroft), Molly couldn't help feel her heart break a little bit for the youngest Holmes brother. She knew that, if she had been targeted then it must have been bad. After all, Moriarty hadn't deemed her important enough when he had snipers aimed at those closest to Sherlock, but as least that worked to their favour. It meant that she had been able to help him.

Her engagement with Tom was the longest relationship she had been in since her university days, and she was all too glad when it was over. Tom was beyond nice. His parents were lovely, and he had a dog that they walked at weekends, before stopping off for a pub lunch. It was nice. But it wasn't Molly. The only thing she missed about him was the sex. He might have been quite boring but, my God, she could never have said that he wasn't good in bed. He was a sex fiend.

One day, Sherlock arrived at the lab, with John in tow. Rosie, it seemed, was spending time with Mrs Hudson, as the crime fighting duo were on a case. But something was different.

"Molly... The Ingrid case. Do you have the autopsy results?", Sherlock asked.

"Yes, they're on my desk. They should be on the top.", Molly replied, buried in some work.

"Thank you.", Sherlock replied. That wasn't as much of a surprise as it once had been but she was still a little shocked to hear it coming from his mouth.

"Er, you're welcome.", Molly smiled.

John followed Sherlock, and the way Sherlock slotted his hand into John's, they're fingers laced together, did not go unnoticed by Molly. She liked to think that she was more observant than Sherlock gave her credit for.

"About time...", Molly said, as the pair re-entered the lab, very much not holding hands.

"I'm sorry?", Sherlock questioned.

"You two. About time.", Molly smiled, making John grin in reply. In truth, John knew how much Sherlock had meant to Molly, and was slightly worried how she'd react when she found out.

Sherlock was blushing and, if she was being honest, Molly thought it was adorable.

"I, um... Thank you, Molly.", Sherlock replied, stuttering slightly.

"You're not the first one to say it, Mols.", John chuckled, wrapping an arm around Sherlock's waist, before placing a small kiss on his cheek, which made the detective blush even further.

"Good.", Molly replied simply, getting back to her work.

If that had happened a few years before, Molly would have gone home, crying as she drank a whole bottle of wine to herself, wallowing that Sherlock would never be hers. Instead, she messaged Greg, although it was likely he already knew, and just carried on with her life as normal. In fact, it was only a few weeks later that she met Sam. He was one of Greg's PC's and they hit it off right away. It was perfect. When Sherlock had first seen Molly and Sam together, he let himself give them a genuine smile. He was beyond happy that Molly had finally found someone worthy of her. It was what she deserved.


	11. The Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble with a toddler and a day at the park...

"No.", Rosie said, crossing her arms in protest.

"Rosie, you have to put your wellies on, if you want to go to the park. It has been raining non-stop for the past 8 days, so it will be muddy.", John replied, getting annoyed.

"I want to wear my flashing shoes, Daddy."

"No, Rosie. You'll ruin them. You either put your wellies on or we don't go to the park at all.", John told her.

"No."

"Fine, then. We won't go to the park.", John replied, sitting down in his armchair, and picking up that days paper.

Rosie stood in the middle of the room, scowling, with her arms still folded across her chest. John left her to brew a little bit. He knew she would give in eventually, especially if he acted as though she wasn't there.

"I want to go to the park, Daddy."

"Then you need to put your wellies on. Are you going to put them on without kicking off, or are we going to sit inside all day?", John asked his daughter.

"Fine. I'll put them on.", Rosie huffed, rolling her eyes. She certainly had become her Papa's daughter, in the way she was a drama queen.

Sherlock then came out of their bedroom, in his coat and scarf, ready to go.

"Are we ready?", Sherlock asked.

"Give us a minute... We had an argument about wellies.", John told him, placing a kiss to Sherlock's brow, before getting himself and their daughter ready to leave.

Once they were finally all ready to go, they walked the short distance to Regent's Park, with Rosie holding onto Sherlock's hand, as he and John walked together, Sherlock's arm around John's shoulder and John's arm around his waist. It was the nicest day they'd had, in London, in quite a while, despite it being August.

They wandered around the park for a while, and Rosie was let lose onto the play area, as John and Sherlock sat on a bench close-by, to keep an eye on her.

"She wasn't too bad, with the wellies, was she?", Sherlock asked his partner.

"No. She got over it a lot quicker than usual. I call that progress.", John smiled.

"Did you use the 'sit and ignore her' technique?", Sherlock questioned.

"Yes. Works every time.", John replied.

It was at that moment that they were joined by the little girls' Uncles, who had promised to join, so they could feed the ducks with Rosie.

"Mycroft. Greg. How are you?", John asked.

"We're good, yeah. Had a meeting with the adoption agency yesterday and it's all looking good. They've found us a little boy. He's 2.", Greg smiled, as he sat down next to John, Mycroft sitting next to his husband, on the other side.

"That is good news. Any names yet?", John smiled.

"Yeah... We're going with Perseus Odysseus Lestrade-Holmes. But we're going to call him Percy for short.", Greg replied.

"Oh, I love it.", John grinned.

"It's perfect.", Sherlock added, gaining a nod of thanks from his older brother.

"Yes.", Mycroft smiled.

The rest of the afternoon was spent feeding the ducks and going on a further walk, before they all went back to Baker Street for a cup of tea. By all accounts, it had been a nice day.


	12. Meeting John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Rosie set off to meet John from work when disaster strikes and Rosie is a star...

"Come on, Rosie... We're meeting your Dad outside the surgery.", Sherlock shouted up the stairs to his 7 year old goddaughter.

"Coming, Lockie!", he heard, before the little girl thundered down the stairs, already wearing her shoes and jacket.

"I'm not getting on a tube at this time, so we'll have to walk. Is that okay?", Sherlock asked.

"Yup.", Rosie replied, smiling.

Sherlock put his hand out, for his goddaughter to take, and they set off down the stairs.

"Can we play our Shakespeare game whilst we walk?", Rosie asked, as Sherlock shut the front door behind them.

"Of course.", Sherlock replied. "To be or not to be."

"That's too easy, Lockie. That's Hamlet."

"Okay... Now is the winter of out discontent."

"Richard III."

"Not until a hot January."

"Much ado about Nothing."

"An old black ram is tupping your white ewe."

"Othello."

"You're too good at this now, Rosie. We'll have to come up with something else.", Sherlock smiled down at her.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. They were stood at a crossing, waiting for the green man to show, when a motor bike veered off the road, straight into Sherlock, nearly dragging Rosie with him. Luckily, he had managed to push her out of the way. Knowing she was only a street away from the surgery, she ran as fast as she could, as tears streamed down her face.

"Daddy! Daddy! You've got to come quickly. Lockie has been hurt.", she yelled, causing the patients in the waiting area to look at the child with concern, and for John to pop his head out of his office door.

"Rosie... What's happened?", John asked, trying to comfort his daughter, who was now sobbing.

"Lockie. A motorbike drove at us.", Rosie managed to get out.

"Sarah, call an ambulance? Take me to him, Rosie.", John ordered, before following his daughter, in a jog, to where Sherlock was splayed out on the floor, groaning and bleeding out.

John immediately knelt down next to his best friend, and began to check over him.

"John?", Sherlock asked.

"Yes. Where does it hurt?", he questioned, very much in Doctor mode.

"Ribs. Side. Bleeding.", Sherlock got out. "Rosie?", he added.

"Our little hero. Ran the rest of the way to the surgery to get me. An ambulance is on the way."

Sherlock smiled a little, before his eyes began to roll into the back of his head.

"Sherlock... Stay with me. Please. Come on. Sherlock!", John urged, but Sherlock slipped into unconsciousness.

Just then, a black car pulled up next to them, and Mycroft climbed out.

"John. You stay with Sherlock and get him seen to. I'll take Rosie and make sure she is safe. Keep me updated.", Mycroft said. John simply nodded, and clung to Sherlock, as he watched his daughter climb into the back of the car with the man, still distraught. John knew she'd be safe with Mycroft, which meant he could focus on worrying about Sherlock.

The pavement, where Sherlock had cut his side, was red with blood, and John had to swallow down the vomit that began rising, as he thought back to last time he had been sat next to Sherlock, as his blood pooled around him. No. He shook his head. He couldn't think like that. He had to stop the bleeding. He pulled Sherlock's coat and scarf off, discarding the coat to the side, so he could access the wound more easily, before putting pressure on it, to stop the bleeding, using Sherlock's scarf to do so.

It wasn't long, then, before the ambulance arrived, and John let them get on with their work, but he didn't, once let go of Sherlock's head, which he had place in his lap. He brushed the stray curls away from his forehead, crying silently as the paramedics tried to stop the bleeding. He was allowed in the ambulance with him, once he had said he was his partner (even though he wasn't) and they got to the hospital.

A few hours later, Sherlock began to come round properly, after having passed out and then been knocked out by the medication he was given.

"John?", Sherlock asked, his voice hoarse.

"I'm here.", came the reply, with a squeeze of his hand.

"What happened?", Sherlock questioned, not letting go.

"A motorbike drove at you. Purposely, it seems. Mycroft has it all under control, though. Rosie is fine. A little shaken, but she isn't hurt.", John replied.

"Good. That's good.", Sherlock smiled a little.

"You saved my little girl's life, Sherlock. Our little girl's life. She told me that you pushed her out of the way.", John replied.

"How did you get to me?", Sherlock asked.

"Rosie ran. All the way to the surgery. Shouted what had happened to the whole waiting room. She brought me to you."

"Then it is Rosie who saved my life, it seems...", Sherlock replied. "I'm tired...", he added, closing his eyes again.

"I'll leave you to it...", John said, beginning to pull away.

"No... John. Stay?", Sherlock asked, opening his eyes and looking to John with a pleading look in his eye.

"Always.", John smiled, sitting back down and tightening his grip on Sherlock's hand. Sherlock then slipped off, back into sleep, with a small smile on his face.

John smiled too, brushing the curls from Sherlock's forehead with his spare hand, before placing a small kiss to his temple and letting his friend rest.


	13. The Last Message From Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last message from Mary arrives at 221B Baker Street...

Two years after Mary's passing, John and Rosie had moved into Baker Street and everything seemed well. That is, until, one day, the post came. John opened it to reveal a DVD and knew, immediately, who it was from.

LOVE YOU. That's what had been written on the disc, this time.

Mary.

"Sherlock... You'd better see this.", John called through to their shared bedroom. It hadn't been long since they had, finally, admitted their feelings for one another, and it had been going really well. John didn't want the arrival of the new disc to put a spanner in the works.

"What is it, love?", Sherlock asked, coming into the living room, clad in his pyjamas and blue robe. John didn't say anything. He simply held out the disc for Sherlock to see, and Sherlock looked like he was going to be sick.

"I suppose we'd better watch it, then.", Sherlock said, taking it from John's hands, to put into the DVD player. John sat on the sofa, and Sherlock joined him, once the DVD was ready, taking John's hand in his and lacing their fingers together.

"Ready?", Sherlock asked. John nodded simply, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Sherlock pressed play and Mary appeared on the screen, smiling. A tear ran down John's face at the sight of her and he clung onto Sherlock's hand a little tighter.

"My Baker Street Boys... If you have received this, then it has been a while. And, knowing you two, I knew you'd both be back in Baker Street, together, where you both belong. I just wanted to say... I know. And it's okay. If you haven't already, you both need to admit your feelings for each other.

"John... I love you with all of my heart, and I know you love me too. But I also know you love Sherlock too. And I want you to know that it is okay. Don't let me hold you back from letting yourself be happy. You belong with him, John. He will look after you and Rosie.

"And, Sherlock... I love you too. You're one of the most amazing human beings I have ever known. I knew, as soon as you came back, that you loved John. But you never said a thing. You stepped aside and let John be happy and I cannot thank you enough for allowing yourself to not be happy for our sake. Now it is your turn.

"I guess, in a way, that this is my blessing to you both. You both need to let go. Take the leap of faith. Be what you always were. Together. Where you belong.

"Give Rosie my love. And both be her parents. Sherlock, be her Father. Look after my little girl for me, please. Be there for them both because I can't. Remember me. I love you all.

"Now, go and be Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. And solve me a crime, whilst you're at it."

By the end of the message, both men were in tears and were clinging to each other for dear life.

"I'm so sorry, John... She died because of me and now I'm taking you and Rosie away from her...", Sherlock sputtered.

"Sherlock. No. You heard her... She wants us to be happy. So... Let's be happy.", John smiled a little, through his tears. Though it had been hard to see his dead wife in front of him, John felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Okay. Okay...", Sherlock smiled a little, calming down a bit.

"I love you, Sherlock.", John whispered, relaxing his forehead against the taller man's.

"I love you too, John.", Sherlock replied, grinning, before pulling John in for a kiss.

The two men both felt like new, knowing they had Mary's love and support. It helped them both to move on and their relationship became stronger than ever.


	14. What If?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John deal with a tricky case that makes them even more grateful for Rosie...

Sherlock was worse than John had seen him in a long time. The case they had just helped Greg's team with had been a difficult one to stomach. It had involved three children, between the ages of 5 and 10, who had been brutally slashed to bits by their step-father. The youngest child had been a little girl, aged 5. The same age as Rosie. It seemed to massively shake Sherlock up.

"Sherlock... Are you okay?", John asked for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"I'm fine, John. Just stop asking.", Sherlock snapped in reply.

"I'm not stupid, love. I know because I felt it too."

"Shut up, John."

"No, I won't. I know, Sherlock. I know what you're thinking, and you need to stop.", John told the detective.

"Enlighten me, John. What is it, exactly, that you know I'm thinking?"

"Rosie.", John replied simply, causing Sherlock to let out a long sigh and to bury his face in his hands.

"I kept thinking... What if? I had dreams that I'd failed again. That you had lost Rosie. That we had lost her. That it was Rosie who was lay there, lifeless, and slashed to bits, not that poor little soul. I mean, 5, John. She was 5. In 5 years of life, what could a child possibly have done to deserve something like that? She was only 5.", Sherlock babbled, letting his thoughts out, as John just sat and listened to him.

John simply stood from his chair, once Sherlock had finished speaking, and knelt in front of him, pulling him down into a hug, so that Sherlock's face ended up buried in his neck.

"Sherlock... Rosie is fine. And I know. Because I felt all of that too. I had to do everything in my power to stop myself from putting my fist through that bastard's face, for hurting those gorgeous kids.", John replied, holding onto Sherlock tightly.

Sherlock pulled back slightly, before pulling John up with him, allowing the shorter man to straddle his lap. John felt Sherlock's arms wrap themselves across his back tightly and let himself let out a sigh of content. Sherlock wasn't an overly affectionate person. John knew that better than anyone else. So, when his partner allowed him in, John clung to every second of it. Sherlock buried his face into John's neck once again, placing light kisses just above the man's collar.

"Sherlock?", John asked, a little confused. It was usually John that initiated anything.

"Please, John. I just need to be close to you, in every possible way. I can't stand the thought of ever being apart from you right now. Rosie is safe, with Molly, so we have the flat to ourselves.", Sherlock explained a little, looking into John's eyes. John saw the raw emotion there and nearly cried.

"Oh, Sherlock...", John sighed, before lacing his fingers through Sherlock's curls, pulling him into a soft kiss. Sherlock reciprocated gladly, happy to forget the horrid thoughts and dreams. He let John take the lead, letting himself get lost in the kiss, as his thoughts melted away until all he could think was 'John'.

John pulled away slightly, after a while, to catch his breath, resting his forehead against his partner's.

"I love you, Sherlock. And, I want you to know... If you ever need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, then I won't judge you. I'll just simply be here."

"Thank you, John. I love you too. Unconditionally.", Sherlock replied, allowing the corners of his mouth to betray him and show a small smile.

"Let's go to bed... It's been a long few days. I just want to lie down and hold you close.", John said, pulling away and standing up.

"I think that is the best idea you've ever had.", Sherlock smiled, before lacing his fingers through John's outstretched hand, and let himself be led into their shared bedroom.

That night, Sherlock slept the best he had, since the start of the case. John did too. They lay there for hours, dozing, and whispering to each other between kisses, just letting themselves get lost in each other. The outside world didn't matter. Rosie was safe. And they were content.


	15. Rosie's First Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Watson-Holmes household watch Harry Potter...

"Dad? Can we watch Harry Potter?", Rosie asked John, on a rainy Sunday afternoon. The boys didn't have a case on, and Rosie, who was 6, had finished all of her homework for that week (including a model of an animal cell).

"Sure. Which one?", John asked.

"There is more than one?", Sherlock questioned, causing John to just roll his eyes a little, with a smile.

"Not Chamber of Secrets.", Rosie said.

"I know. The spiders... How about Goblet of Fire?", John smiled, knowing it was, secretly, his daughter's favourite.

"Yes!", Rosie beamed.

Rosie took up her usual position on one end of the sofa, whilst Sherlock and John sat next to her. John pulled the blanket down off the back and threw it over them all, before they settled down and watched the film.

"That blonde one is annoying.", Sherlock muttered.

"That's Draco Malfoy, Pa. He's cute.", Rosie replied, before blushing, after realising what she had just said.

"Rosamund Mary Watson-Holmes... Do you have a crush on Draco Malfoy?", John grinned, teasing his daughter.

"I, er, well... I just think he is handsome, Dad.", Rosie replied.

"Nothing wrong with that, chick. You should see him now. I wouldn't say no.", John chuckled, making Rosie giggle. Sherlock frowned, however.

"So, not only do I have to sit through this mindless drivel, my husband seems to have a crush on a teenager. Should I be worried, John?", Sherlock asked, trying to cover his annoyance with humour.

"I said he is attractive now, Sherlock. He is well into adulthood now. And don't you worry, love. I have eyes only for you.", John smiled, placing a kiss to Sherlock's cheek, which seemed to calm him down a little bit.

As much as Sherlock protested about being made to sit and watch Harry Potter, he actually got into it. Over the next few weeks, Sherlock began to read the books to Rosie, at bed time, despite her being able to read them by herself. And he even insisted on everyone taking the Pottermore quiz, to determine which house they were all in. Sherlock got Ravenclaw (which he was pleased about). John got Gryffindor (which Sherlock seemed to think was obvious). And Rosie got Slytherin. They were only short a Hufflepuff to make the complete set, however, Sherlock suspected Molly would be a Hufflepuff.

The strange wizarding world intrigued Sherlock to no end, it seemed. John came home from running errands, on more than one occasion, to find Sherlock reading ahead in the book he was on with Rosie.

"John, did you know that this thing is huge?", Sherlock asked him one day.

"I know, love. A lot of people love it. People have themed weddings and all sorts.", John replied, before sitting next to his husband. "I never thought you would ever get into something like this, though, love. You said the Tolkein universe was drivel..."

"Yes, I know, Cap, but this is different. I don't know what it is about it... Fans make new stories and videos and dress up as the characters. They even pair them off. Some people think Draco and Harry should be together. I mean, can you imagine? Although, I do think that would have been a good part of the plot...", Sherlock said. John loved it when Sherlock called him Cap. It was a shortened version of Captain and was the closest he got to a pet name from his husband.

"Wow, love... You might want to take it a bit easier. You'll be having us all trying to play Quidditch next.", John chuckled.

Sherlock grinned, before placing a kiss to his husband's lips and lying across the sofa, not caring that his head was in John's lap. John just grinned. He liked how Sherlock had invested himself in something that Rosie loved so much, so that they could spend time together through it, whether that be reading the books, watching the films, or discussing plot lines and characters. He knew Sherlock had struggled, at first, when it came to parenting, with not knowing what to do to keep Rosie's attention. However, Harry Potter seemed to be the thing that made them even more inseparable and it made John happy to see his husband and daughter like that.

As John thought about all of this, his absently played with his husband's curls. Sherlock sunk into his mind palace, to work on the case they had at that moment but was always aware of John's hand in his hair. It remained his anchor to the real world.


	16. Everything's Coming Up Rosie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage Rosie auditions for her school play...

Sherlock was a little mortified, at first, when Rosie said she was auditioning for the lead role in her school production. It's not that he wasn't proud of her but he knew that, if she did get it, then he would have to go and watch her in whatever drivel she was performing in. He had never liked musical theatre, which was why Mycroft ended up being dragged to the theatre with their parents, whenever they came to London to catch a show. However, for the sake of his goddaughter, he was willing to put his thoughts about musical theatre to one side to support her. It didn't mean he had to like it, though.

With Rosie being 14, there was a high chance that she would, indeed, be considered for the main role. Rosie has learned to sing since the age of 5, and had been a master in singing Italian opera since she was 12. Sherlock knew she had the vocal talent to pull off a main role. Rosie had also always danced, much to Sherlock's delight, as he had always loved dance. Being trained in ballet himself, he was always glad to help her by running through variations with her, too, often correcting bits as they went along. And, although she had no real training, Rosie had always exceeded in acting, especially through song.

On the day of the audition, Rosie got home, to 221B from school, and seemed delighted with her efforts. John was excited, as he had enjoyed acting at school but had never done it, in the fear of being bullied. As extra-curricular go, John had always veered to playing sports, with him excelling in rugby. He was glad that Rosie was able to do the thing she enjoyed without having people bully her for doing so. It kind of made him wish that he had just thrown caution to the wind and had done the part of Romeo, at school. He was extremely talented and he let fear of what his peers thought of him hold him back.

On the day the cast list went up, John and Sherlock were sat in Greg's office, pouring over evidence for a case they were working on. John's phone started ringing, and he smiled, seeing it was Rosie.

"Hi, chick. So...?", John asked, putting the phone on speaker so Sherlock and Greg could hear too.

"I GOT THE PART DAD!!!", Rosie yelled down the phone.

"I knew you would. I'm so proud of you, chick! Uncle Lock and Uncle Greg are here too.", John replied.

"Lockie?", Rosie asked.

"Yes, sweetie?", Sherlock asked his goddaughter.

"There is a lot of dancing in this show, so once I've learned to choreography, would you help me?", Rosie questioned.

"Of course, I can. I would love to.", Sherlock smiled, feeling his heart swell that he had been asked for help on something that meant so much to Rosie.

"What show is it, Rosie?", Greg asked.

"Shrek. I am playing Fiona. I have a tap number!", Rosie replied.

"Sounds awesome. Well, you can count me in for two tickets. I'll happily drag Uncle Myc to watch you with me.", Greg answered, grinning.

"Okay! Thanks, Uncle Greg. Anyway, I'd better go. One of the girls is kicking off because it's her last year and she hasn't been cast as a lead. She thinks she is all that, but she can't dance for shit and she likes to think she can sing too. Her voice resembles that of a dying cat.", Rosie answered.

"Okay, bye, love. We might not be in when you get home. We're on a case, but I have left some money on the side. Get yourself a celebratory take out and we'll be with you as soon as we can.", John replied.

"Thanks, Da. See you later! Catch the criminal!!", Rosie said, before hanging up.

"I didn't even know Shrek was a musical...", Greg said, as he picked up the report he had been working on, before Rosie had rang.

"What's Shrek?", Sherlock questioned, looking confused.

Greg and John burst out laughing, as Sherlock stood there, looking even more confused.

"Be nice, John. He's only just got used to Doctor Who. We can't expect him to know what Shrek is yet.", Greg chuckled.

"You have a point.", John replied, also chuckling, whilst patting Sherlock's back lightly. "I'm sure Rosie will introduce to it, anyway, Sherlock."

"Mmm.", Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes, which set Greg and John off again. It's safe to say, they didn't get much done on the case for a good half an hour after that.


	17. Sherlock's Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a boyfriend and John realises he may be too late...

John Watson was annoyed. Massively so. Sherlock had decided to give dating a try and had become an item with a lab technician, who worked at the University of London. John tried to be happy. He really did. But couldn't find himself to be. Rosie, although she seemed irritated at first, had taken to Eric. She even went to the park with him and Sherlock, when John had taken an extra shift at the surgery, due to them being short-staffed.

John had always had an inclination that if Sherlock were to ever to get into a romantic relationship, then it would be with a man. John wasn't homophobic. He'd be a bit hypocritical if he was, due to him swinging both ways. He didn't get the nickname 'Three Continents Watson', when he was in the army, for no reason. He'd even been in a steady relationship with James Sholto, before his accident. John hadn't wanted to end that relationship, either. It had been James who had pulled the plug on it, as he wanted to protect John from all of the hate he was getting. However, thinking Sherlock would be with a man was one thing. Seeing him smile, laugh, and even hold hands with someone was another thing. John had come to terms with the fact, years ago, when Sherlock had jumped and left him behind, that his romantic feelings towards his best friend would never be reciprocated. And, by the time Sherlock came back, it was too late. John had Mary, whom he loved so much. She was his rock.

After Sherinnford, when John had moved back into Baker Street with Rosie, John thought that things would, maybe, progress and that they would end up in a relationship of sorts. That didn't happen, however.

"Sherlock, can I ask you something?", John asked, when it was just the two of them once evening, after Rosie had gone to bed.

"Sure. Go ahead.", Sherlock replied.

"Why Eric?", John questioned.

"Well, he is smart, kind, and he loves me. He is good with Rosie. He gets on with Mycroft and Greg. He is just, well, he is perfect, really.", Sherlock replied.

"Do you love him?", John asked.

"I'm very fond of him.", Sherlock answered, not able to reach John's eyes.

"That's not the same thing, Sherlock. And you know it isn't.", John replied.

"I'm not having this conversation with you, John. Not now. Not when I am finally moving on. I'm happy with Eric. He puts up with me when I'm in a terrible mood and he loves me. That's all I could ever ask."

"What do you mean, finally moving on?", John questioned.

"You're not really that dense, John. I have loved you since I laid eyes on you. But then you went around insisting we weren't gay and that we weren't a couple. And when I came back, you had Mary. I watched on and didn't say a word because I knew you were happy."

"But I love you, Sherlock. I have done for years... Please tell me I'm not too late?"

"I don't know, John. I need to think about this. I thought I was getting over you, what with being so happy with Eric. I need to think about this. I cannot and will not break Eric's heart. I don't love him like I love you, but he loves me. I can't do that to him, John. I won't."

"Okay. Okay. I get it. You suffered whilst you stood on the sidelines whilst I was with Mary. God, Sherlock, if I'd have known..."

"If you'd have known, then nothing would have been any different. We might have got together not long after Sherrinford, but we didn't, John. And I'm with Eric now. You wouldn't have broken it off with Mary to be with me. You loved her. You can't ask me to do that with Eric."

"You don't love Eric, though, Sherlock. I know he loves you but I love you. And you love me. Isn't that enough?", John asked, tears welling in his eyes.

Sherlock looked close to tears, too, as he replied, "I do love you, John. I always have and I always will. I just need time."

"Okay. I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you, too. We'll talk more tomorrow. I'm going to bed, to think this over."

That left John sat in his armchair, feeling empty and full at the same time, as tears rolled down his face. They had wasted years by not confessing to each other and John felt like he had now missed his chance with Sherlock. He just hoped he hadn't.


	18. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John moves back to Baker Street...

John taped up the last box, that was to go back to Baker Street, and sighed. He was excited to get back to Baker Street, and begin a new era with his best friend, but the house he was stood in held many memories. It had been his home with Mary and she was everywhere in the house. Each room held something else that John remembered fondly about his wife. And, equally, every room held memories he'd rather forget.

"Ready to go?", Sherlock asked, as he came back into the living room. He had been loading boxes onto a van they'd hired.

"Just one more minute. I'll, uh, meet you by the van.", John said, trying to smile.

Sherlock saw the smile that didn't quite reach John's eyes and nodded. "Of course. Take as long as you need."

Sherlock then picked up the last box with ease, and walked outside, leaving John alone. The rooms that surrounded him were now empty. It seemed a little strange. He'd never seen it so empty. When he had bought it, the previous owners had still lived there, so he had never seen the house without furniture.

He climbed up the stairs and took one last look around the top floor of the house. He smiled as he reached Rosie's room, remembering the day that he, Mary and Sherlock had spent painting and putting together furniture. The arguments had been monumental. Yet, so had the laughs. He remembered that day fondly. He then made his peace with the upstairs of the house and descended the stairs again, taking one last round of the rooms downstairs, before ending up back in the living room for the last time.

"Well, this is it. Thank you for everything. Even when things were not good, you were here waiting. A place we were all happy and safe, even if that wasn't for the whole time. God, Mary... You're everywhere here. The walls hum with you. If you were here now... Well, this wouldn't be happening if you were here now, but, you know. If you were here now, I'd like to think that this place was special to you too. It was the place Rosie was conceived. It was the first place she was brought to when she was born. She rolled over for the first time right where I am standing now. If you could see her now, love... My God. She looks like you. She is beautiful.

"We're going back to Baker Street. You said, once, that there was a piece of me missing and that the piece that was missing was at Baker Street. I always thought you meant the flat itself, but I know, now, what you meant. And I am going to tell him. I am. I know you would have supported this. I'm sorry it never worked properly. But I'm glad you were Mary Watson, even if it was just for a short while. I will always love you."

John finished his speech, and sighed, with a smile. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He left the front door and locked it, for the last time, before joining Sherlock next to the van.

"Are you okay?", Sherlock asked, as he approached.

"No. But it is what it is, yeah?", John smiled a little.

"Yeah.", Sherlock agreed.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, and waited for a moment for Sherlock to wrap his arms around his waist, before he held him close.

"Take me home.", John whispered in Sherlock's ear.

"Okay.", Sherlock smiled. John could hear it in his voice.

The two men then pulled away from each other and climbed into the front of the van. Sherlock took the driver's side, as John slid himself into the passenger seat.

"I'm choosing the music.", John said, reaching for the radio.

"Fine. Just not Radio One.", Sherlock replied, before they set off, back to central London, away from the suburbs. Back home.


	19. Mycroft Is Not Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is sentenced to a month on the sofa...

When Greg came into Baker Street, with a grave look and his face ashen, John immediately knew that there was something very wrong. Greg, however exasperated by a case, would never look as he did.

"Greg? Are you okay?", John asked, concerned.

"This case, John, it's... I can't even begin to describe how sick these bastards are.", Greg sighed, sitting on the sofa, burying his head in his hands.

"Do try to, Lestrade, or nothing will ever get done.", Sherlock said, in his usual nonchalant tone.

"Sherlock...", John warned, giving him a look of disapproval with it.

"What?", Sherlock asked, looking confused.

"Never mind.", John said, rolling his eyes. "Now, go on, Greg."

"So, there is this group... They're taking kids. And then a week after they go missing, they turn up dead, all having been raped post-mortem. Most of them are so mutilated that they can only be identified by their teeth records. There have been seven kids now.", Greg explained.

"Holy shit... So, you need our help?", John questioned, in shock, a little, from what he had just heard.

"He means my help.", Sherlock added.

"Fine. Sherlock's help...", John said, getting annoyed at his husband.

"In short, yes. But we need a kid to be put into the firing line.", Greg said. "It's the only way we're going to catch them."

"And my brother suggested his niece... How familial of him. Well, you can tell him, Greg, it isn't happening.", Sherlock spat.

"You mean to say that Mycroft Holmes was willing to put our daughter at risk?! Greg... How could you even condone that?", John asked, extreme anger flooding through his body.

"I don't condone it, John. I don't, at all, but something does need done. Now, I think that having Sherlock on the case will be enough. There is no reason to involve Rosie. And, believe me, I have had some VERY strong words with my husband, and he is currently two days into a month's sentence of sleeping on the couch.", Greg replied, trying to calm John a little.

"That's less than he deserves, Greg. I can't even begin to comprehend what goes through that man's mind.", John said, a little calmer, but still red-faced with anger.

"I will take the case, Greg. However, you can't stop me from arguing with my brother about this. I know you have given him grief about it already, but I need to do this. He has done this too many times. He thinks he can just put us all at risk whenever he chooses, and he isn't going to be doing it anymore. I'm going to make sure of it. I thought he would be better after how much he messed up with Eurus, but clearly not.", Sherlock said, in a calm manner, but there was fire behind his eyes.

"Believe me, I am not going to even think about stopping you, Sherlock, let alone try to. He deserves it, quite frankly. I love him to bits, but he is an ignorant and stupid twat sometimes. Well, most of the time, actually. But the heart wants what the heart wants.", Greg replied.

"That's true.", John said, throwing Sherlock a wink, which caused him to blush wildly, before clearing his throat. John loved the effect he had on his husband, still, after the many years. He found it adorable that Sherlock still acted like an innocent virgin. John, and a lot of other people too, knew Sherlock was far from that now.

"Anyway, I'd best be off. Come to the station tomorrow for half 10? I'll take you through the evidence and we can see if you can pick anything up from it. I can also take you to where the latest body was found, if that's helpful?", Greg asked Sherlock.

Sherlock simply nodded in reply, still glowing bright red.

John said his goodbyes, and Greg then left. Once they heard the front door close, Sherlock pounced on John, grabbing him and pulling him out of his chair.

"Bedroom. Now, John.", Sherlock said, before dragging his husband into their room, to make him pay for making him blush in front of Greg.


	20. Nicotine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock loses John and turns to nicotine to get him through, only to discover everything isn't as it seems...

Sherlock took the first drag of his cigarette and let out a smile. He could feel the smoke burning it's way down into his lungs and it felt fantastic. He had missed it. He had promised John he would never touch a cigarette again, but what John thought or said no longer mattered. John didn't want to be with him anymore. And that hurt. It hurt like hell. So, what was a little more pain, as his lungs screamed for oxygen, rather than the poison he was providing them with. He couldn't find himself to care, however. John was everything. And now John was gone.

It started when John met Claire. She was nice, and kind, and had lovely curves. Even Sherlock, as a gay man, could appreciate she was beautiful. They met at a conference and hit it off, right away. And then, within months, John was gone. His daughter with him. After all, why would Rosie need her Papa Sherlock anymore, when she had a new mother on the scene?

Mycroft had seen the signs immediately, with Greg helping him to do a sweep of the flat for drugs. But Sherlock didn't want to pump himself with cocaine. He wanted to poison himself slowly with nicotine, instead. He felt it was better. Slowly torturing himself. The split from John had been incredibly quick. Sherlock didn't wanted to be reminded of that. So slow was the only option.

He was still John's friend, of course, which made it even harder. He sat back and watched the little girl he saw as his daughter grow without him being there, every step of the way, like he wanted to be. Even Mycroft had said he missed the presence of the little girl, who had grown to become quite fond of the little girl. However, Mycroft saw her maybe once a month, after John left, if that.

Greg had been annoyed at John, which had resulted in John not speaking to him for a month, but Greg didn't care. Greg had seen Sherlock before John had come into his life. He had been there, at his side, as he came down from a high. He had been by his side through the hell of withdrawal. He had even sat and cried by his bedside when he thought Sherlock wasn't going to live, due to an overdose. And Greg didn't want to ever see any of those things ever again.

One day, Sherlock was stood at the window, half hanging out of it as he smoked, when John turned up. He was on his own.

"Sherlock... Please tell me you aren't smoking.", John said, looking hurt.

"You have eyes, John. Even you can see that it is, indeed, what I am doing.", Sherlock replied, before taking another drag.

"But you promised me you wouldn't. Are you back on the drugs too?", John asked, folding his arms, looking angry.

"No, John. I'm not back on the drugs.", Sherlock answered, ignoring John's comment about promising him he wouldn't smoke.

"But you promised you wouldn't."

"And you promised you'd never leave. Guess we both broke promises then, didn't we?", Sherlock spat out.

John stood, shocked into silence. "Sherlock, I... I love you. You know I love you. But I had to leave you."

"You didn't HAVE to. It's not like you were being threatened.", Sherlock retorted. John didn't say anything, but his gaze wouldn't meet Sherlock's. Sherlock looked at John in shock. "You WERE being threatened? Christ, John... Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped."

"Claire is in on it. She monitors me. She would have known if I had told you. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. You will die, Sherlock. They will kill you. I'd rather have you in my life a little bit than not at all. I tried that once. It didn't exactly go very well.", John explained, more calmly than thought he'd manage to.

"Oh, John...", Sherlock sighed, moving towards John, to pull him into his arms. However, John took a step back.

"I can't, Sherlock... If I let you hold me then I'll have to kiss you. And then all of this will have been for nothing. You haven't been eating. You have started smoking again. Christ, Sherlock, you leaned over the desk in Greg's office the other day and I could see the vertebrae of your back through your suit jacket. Please. I love you but you need to look after yourself.", John said, before the tears began to fall and John ran out of the flat, leaving Sherlock alone, with his own tears.


	21. Be Happy, Be Bright, Be Fabulous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie redecorates parts of the flat...

Once Rosie was in her later years of high school, many different things began to pop up around the flat. These included cactus plants, fairy lights and inspirational quotes. The inspirational quotes were the things that annoyed Sherlock the most. He didn't like them. The one he hated the most was the one that was pinned to the front of the fridge. It read 'Be happy, Be bright, Be fabulous' in gold, cursive writing. It really got on his nerves. He thought it was useless drivel.

John didn't seem to mind the quotes that popped up everywhere and had even taken to caring for the cactus plants and turning on the fairy lights of an evening, rather than the lamp. Greg found it amusing. He knew these things that had appeared around the flat irritated Sherlock, which just made it all even funnier.

Mycroft had a similar reaction to the inspirational quotes as his brother did. In that he thought that they were all drivel. In his mind, surely, people didn't need to be reminded to be happy. And they certainly didn't need to be told to be bright or fabulous. People were bad enough to deal with, as it was, without them all going around being overly joyous.

One day, Rosie was sat at the kitchen table, with her best friend Kitty (which was short for Kathryn). They were working on a joint science project about the planets for physics, so, already, Sherlock was staying well away from them, knowing that John would only mock him for his lack of knowledge about the universe.

"I love the quotes... I'm guessing they were your idea?", Kitty asked her friend.

"Yep. Dad hasn't been bothered about them but Pa doesn't like them. And neither does Uncle Myc. It is soooooo funny. Uncle Greg finds it hilarious.", Rosie replied, with a smile.

"Where is your Pa? I thought science was his thing.", Kitty questioned. All they heard was John laughing from the living room.

"He's not laughing at you, don't worry. Pa just didn't know that the earth revolved around the sun until he met Dad...", Rosie assured Kitty.

"Seriously?! But that's primary school stuff.", Kitty said, shocked.

"I know... That's what I said.", John chuckled, as he came into the kitchen, to make another cup of tea.

"He's a genius, how didn't he know that?", Kitty questioned.

"He reserves his memory space for stuff that he deems to be important. For example, he didn't know that the earth went around the sun, but he still knew Dad's favourite flavour of crisps and what size jumper he wears, long before they even considered themselves to be best friends, let alone before they actually got together and got married.", Rosie said.

"What, did your Pa tell you that, Rosie?", John asked his daughter.

"Yeah, why?"

"Is he in the bedroom?"

"Yeah."

John immediately put his stuff down and went to find Sherlock, leaving the girls in the kitchen.

"Your Dads are the cutest.", Kitty grinned.

"Aren't they just?", Rosie chuckled a little.

In the bedroom, Sherlock was sat against the headboard, his shoes off, reading, when John entered.

"John?", Sherlock questioned, looking confused, as John took the book off him and climbed onto him, so he was straddling his lap.

"So, you didn't think that the universe was important but you remembered by favourite crisps and what size jumper I wore, long before we were even best friends?", John asked, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's shoulders while the taller man's wrapped around the ex-soldier's waist.

"Have you been talking to Rosie?", Sherlock asked, in reply.

"Just answer the question, Sherlock...", John said, rolling his eyes, but smiling.

"Well, yes. Of course I did.", Sherlock answered.

"I'm not more important than the universe.", John told him.

"That's where you're wrong, John. Because I may not know about the actual universe but you are my universe, and I know everything I need to about you.", Sherlock replied.

John leaned in and placed a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips, before resting his forehead against his husband's. "God, I couldn't love you anymore, Sherlock."

"I love you, too."

"Come on... I have a friend over! No shagging!", they heard Rosie shout from the kitchen. Sherlock turned bright red, while John simply chuckled.

"Cup of tea? Please come and sit with me in the living room...", John asked.

"Okay.", Sherlock smiled.


	22. First Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking dull for Greg, until a certain government official turns up to save him from the downpour...

The rain battered at his office windows, as Greg tried to concentrate on his final report of the day, before he could go home. Home wasn’t an exciting place. It was a small two bedroom flat, where he lived alone, apart from the mould that reared his head, every once in a while, in the corner of his living room ceiling. It was a Friday. The weather wasn’t going to get any better, over the weekend, so his plan to go for a run was out of the question. That meant he was stuck inside his flat all day for two whole days, trying to fight the mind-numbing boredom with a book, or a film, or a TV series he had been too busy to watch when it has first aired. He thought, for a moment, about asking John to the pub, but then remembered that John, Sherlock and Rosie were visiting Sherlock’s parents for the weekend, at their cottage. They wanted to make the most of having another little girl in the family. John and Sherlock weren’t a couple, but Greg could see that it would only be a matter of time before they would be. After all, after the issues on Sherrinford, John had moved back into Baker Street, with his daughter, and the crime-fighting duo went back to doing what they did best – chasing criminals through the streets of London. Sherlock had asked him to keep an eye on his brother for him, and he had, but not to the extent that he had liked to, due to having to work so much.

Greg had taken the tube into work, that morning, and was regretting that decision when he had finished the last report and he stepped out into the rain. He only got half-way to the end of the street when a black car pulled up beside him and the door opened to reveal Mycroft Holmes.

“Do get in, Greg… You’ll get ill.”, Mycroft insisted, before Greg got into the back of the car. He was already soaked through, by the downpour outside, as he had left his umbrella in his car, the day before.

“Thank you for this, Mycroft.”, Greg smiled.

“Well, you didn’t bring your car. We can’t expect you to be walking to the tube station in this weather, can we now?”, Mycroft replied, with a small smile. “Besides… Consider it a thanks for helping me after, well, you know…”  
“It was the least I could do. And I wish I’d have done more.”, Greg told the eldest Holmes, honestly.

“Well, I disagree, Greg… You did plenty. I don’t know anyone else who would sit awake for three nights in a row, just to make sure I slept.”

“Like I said. It was the least I could do.”, Greg insisted.

“Look, I know Sherlock asked you to keep an eye on me, but I also know you well enough to know that you don’t do anything you don’t want to. I just want to know… Why?”, Mycroft asked. Over the years, having helped each other out when dealing with Sherlock, the two me had got to know each other so intimately that, in the end, Greg had known Mycroft better than he’d known himself, and vice versa.

“Because I know you, Myc. And I knew you weren’t really okay, when I was on the phone to you that night. It’s why I insisted that I was on that helicopter.” Greg was the only person who could call the other man Myc without being chastised for shortening his name. Mycroft didn’t mind the nickname from Greg. In fact, he quite liked it. Even his own mother could not get away with shortening her son’s name without being told off for it.

“I see. Well, I was wondering, Greg, if you would like to join me for dinner?”

“As in a date?”

“I wouldn’t want to push you into anything, if you just see us as friends…”

“Don’t be daft, Myc. Surely you must know that I have found you gorgeous since I got back from that first case Sherlock turned up at, to find you sat behind my desk.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes. Myc… I would love to go to out for dinner with you.”


	23. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John never wanted to relive losing Sherlock, especially now he definitely isn't coming back...

John Watson was led, almost blindly, as his daughter pulled him along behind her Papa’s coffin. John had hoped, all of those years before, that he would never have to go through that grief again. He was wrong. He wanted to hate Sherlock for leaving him behind again, but he found that he couldn’t. It was a nice enough day, luckily. It wasn’t wall to wall sunshine, but it wasn’t trashing it down either. Rosie wasn’t crying. In fact, she had yet to cry. John clung to her, like she was his lifeline. In a way, she was. She seemed to have grown up so fast. 20 years old… Time had flown by. And John couldn’t believe Sherlock wasn’t there to see how she had blossomed. In his final few months, Sherlock Holmes had refused treatment. The cancer was incurable, so he had taken the decision to live a more fulfilling life, rather than a longer, drawn out one. The doctors said he wouldn’t reach his 15th wedding anniversary. He surpassed it by four months.

John spent their last wedding anniversary together smiling. As did his husband. They had Rosie, Greg, Mycroft and Molly over, where they enjoyed a meal together. Rosie had taken so many pictures. She had started doing it as soon as her Pa had been diagnosed. She wanted to keep his last days documented forever.

The service was as quiet as the first had been. Rosie, along with John and Mycroft, had given a eulogy and then she had played the violin (something her Pa had begun to teach her when she was just four years old). Everyone then piled into 221 Baker Street, which was now John’s solely (after it had been left to both him and Sherlock upon Mrs Hudson’s death a few years prior), where they ate sandwiches and exchanged stories about the great consulting detective.

“Dad?”, Rosie said softly, causing John to snap out of his trance.

“Mm?”

“Everyone else has gone. It’s just us.”, she told him, as she sat down next to him and snuggled into his side.

“Are you okay?”, John asked his daughter. “You haven’t cried yet.”

“I know… I don’t know why. I feel like it will hit me all at once. Right now, it feels like he’s going to come flouncing out of your room, clad in his pyjamas and blue dressing gown, and plonk himself in his armchair.”

The thought made John smile a little.

“Last time, when I thought he was gone, I left this place behind. I buried it.”

“You’re not going to this time, though, right?”

“I couldn’t even if I tried, Rosie.”

“Good. I don’t think I could bear losing this place as well as losing Pa.”, Rosie admitted.

“Me neither.”

For the first few weeks, John barely slept. He sat, staring at Sherlock’s violin, like he was willing it to play. Sherlock always used to play for him when he couldn’t sleep. He visited Sherlock’s grave once a week, and would spend anything up to four hours, stood talking to him. John always used to make fun of his husband for continuing to talk when John wasn’t there. Now that Sherlock was really gone, John could see the appeal.

Ten years later, when Rosie had got married and had given birth to a gorgeous son, which she named after her Pa, John held his grandson close, and smiled.

“Hello, little Sherlock… Now, let grandad tell you a story all about grandpa, who you’re named after. It all started with a lot of pink…”


	24. Instagram Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15 year old Rosie does an Instagram Live to celebrate a special day, in Baker Street...

On the day of Sherlock and John’s 10th wedding anniversary, Rosie was ecstatic and decided to document it through an Instagram live. Due to her fathers being who they were, she had rather a large Instagram following, even though she was only 15.

“Dad! Say hi to my followers!”, Rosie asked John, as he walked into the kitchen, with his and Sherlock’s tea-cups.

“Hi followers!”, he replied absently, as he was putting the cups into the sink.

Rosie then flipped the camera back onto herself and then proceeded to sit down at the kitchen table, resting her phone against a jar of jam, to keep it upright.

“So, guys… Today is a very special day, in Baker Street. It is the 10th anniversary of my dads getting married! So exciting. I am going to stay with my Uncle Myc and Uncle Greg later, so they can celebrate properly because, let’s face it, I don’t want to hear that.”

“Rosie!”

“Sorry Dad. (Not sorry) But, yeah… So, we’re going out today, as a family, to celebrate and then they are having their own time together later… I will be posting pictures throughout the day to keep you guys updated. If you haven’t already seen the post that I made of my favourite pictures of them, then do check it out. There are a couple of ones that have never been seen before.

Oh, hi, Jess! Jess is brilliant. Pa worked with her Dad on a case, about 6 years ago now, I think, and we have been friends ever since.

Do my dads have a favourite TV show? Well, Dad likes Doctor Who but hates hospital dramas – he thinks they are unrealistic. And I have been able to get him to start watching period dramas with me, because, as you all know, I am a sucker for period dramas… Pa doesn’t really watch telly. He will sit with us when we’re watching something but tends to be doing other things.

Does my Pa wear cologne and if so, which one? I think he does, but I don’t know which one. That’s one of the strangest questions I think I have ever had…

Er, let’s see… Can I say hi to Ella and Cory, they are big fans, and it is Ella’s birthday today… Hi Ella and Cory! And a big happy birthday to Ella!

Oooo, this is good one from KrisAliteron. Shag, Marry, Avoid… Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy… Well, we all know I am the biggest simp for Draco Malfoy, so I would definitely marry him. I would probably say I’d shag Harry, because he is the chosen one and it would be cool to brag about, which means I would have to kill Ron, which is sad. I like Ron…”

“Rosie, have you seen my scarf?”

“Yeah, Pa. The dog had it. Can you say hi on my Instagram live?”

Sherlock stood next to his daughter, so he could be seen, and said, “Hi Instagram live.”, before scuttling off to find his scarf.

“I’m now getting a lot of comments about Pa…

Does he currently have a case on? He doesn’t as he doesn’t take cases around anniversaries and birthdays, so he is there for them… He did finish one two days ago, I think, which will probably be up on Dad’s blog soon. Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, chick?”

“When will the latest case be up on your blog?”

“By the end of next week, hopefully.”

“There you have it, guys… A new case should be up by the end of next week…

Do I have a favourite place? Oohh… Good question! There are woods near my grandparent’s house, which I just love. We always make sure to have a walk through them when ever we go up to visit.

What is the weirdest thing you’ve come home to? There have been many times when I have got in from school, or whatever, and there has been a passed-out client. That seems to happen a lot, but Dad is always on it. Once, when I was about 9, I think, I got home, after a day with my Uncles to find pink powder had been exploded all over the kitchen. Dad was not very happy, at all, and Pa was still washing pink powder out of his hair a week later. It got everywhere. We had to get the kitchen done…

Will my Pa ever be back on twitter? I don’t know… He stopped using as much when he and Dad got together, but I don’t know.”

“Rosie! 5 minutes and then we’re going…”, her Dad shouted through.

“Okay!

So, you heard that, guys, 5 minutes… Er, what have we got… Can I save the live? Yes. I can do that for you.

Will I sing again? Well, I am currently in the middle of rehearsals for a play at my drama academy, which I am looking forwards to, but there is no singing in it, unfortunately. I don’t know. I might do a video and post it, if that is something you guys want to see…

Oh, hi Uncle Greg! He is telling me to wrap it up because they are on their way to pick us up. So, I am going to do that…”

Rosie looked to the living room and found her Dad and Pa were embraced, having a moment. They both had their arms wrapped around each other’s waist and had their foreheads resting together. Rosie smiled. After all this time, it was still sweet to see her dads in that way.

“Sorry guys…

What was I looking at? My Dad and Pa are having a moment. Would show you but, you know… Some things have to stay private. Anyway… Keep an eye on my story for any pictures, throughout the day. It was lovely talking to you all. Have a great #johnlockday, for those mega-fans that celebrate it, and I’ll talk to you soon. Bye!”

Rosie then ended the recording and left her Dad and Pa to their moment, so she could get her coat on. With it being 29th January, it was still cold out, so she made sure she had her hat too, and then waited by the top of the stairs for her Uncles to arrive.


	25. The Stake-out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing can happen, whilst John and Sherlock are confined to a small space, right?

Sherlock was getting irritable, by the sixth hour. They had traced a smuggling ring to a group of warehouses, down by the Thames, and were waiting on any movement. Sherlock had figured out that they were likely to move that night, and there was him, John and Greg and his team, all spaced around the complex, waiting for something to happen.

“I don’t understand it, John. If there is one thing I hate, it is an unpunctual criminal.”, Sherlock complained.

“I’m sure it can’t be much longer now, Sherlock.”, John tried to reassure his friend. The space they were in was only a little bigger than an aeroplane toilet, and it had been a long time that they had been stuck in there.

“There is just no sign of movement at all.”, Sherlock sighed.

John’s phone then buzzed, indicating he had a text.

West Entrance. White transit van with what looks like three occupants. GL.

“It’s Greg. West Entrance.”

Sherlock grinned, as they carefully began their move towards the West Entrance of the complex. Moving quickly and quietly, John pulled his gun out of the back of his jeans, ready to jump into action if he needed to.

They arrived closer to the West Entrance and then hid again, in an even smaller space than they had been. John was pressed right up against Sherlock and was praying his body didn’t betray him at that inappropriate moment. John looked anywhere but Sherlock’s face, trying to act normal, but failing massively.

“John…”, Sherlock whispered, bringing a hand up to John’s waist, to hold him steady.

John then made the mistake of looking up at Sherlock and nearly crumbled. Sherlock was looking at him in a way that made his knees go weak. John was glad Sherlock was holding him up, as he feared he might have fallen if he wasn’t.

Sherlock looked straight into John’s eyes, like he was trying to read what was going on in John’s head. His other hand then came up to rest on John’s cheek.

“Sherlock, I…”, John whispered, closing his eyes at the sensation of being so close to Sherlock.

Sherlock didn’t say anything. He simply leant down and pressed his lips, lightly, to John’s. It was so soft, barely a whisper. Sherlock went to pull back, but John had other ideas. John’s arms came up to wrap around Sherlock’s neck, one hand buried in his curls, as he brought Sherlock in for a second kiss. John pressed his lips to Sherlock’s more firmly and let his tongue glide across Sherlock’s bottom lip. Sherlock gasped, at the sensation, and John used it as an opportunity to let his tongue explore Sherlock’s mouth. As soon as it had happened, Sherlock was answering back, his tongue fighting against John’s. John tried to suppress a moan, making Sherlock pull back.

“No, John. I want to hear you.”

“But the case…”

“Sod the case.”, Sherlock replied, before reconnecting their lips.

It wasn’t long before there was a loud crash and they couldn’t ignore what was happening outside, in case someone was in danger.

“This will be resumed at the earliest convenience.”, Sherlock said quickly, before running into action, leaving John to pull himself together for a moment, before joining the case once again, with a smile on his face.

If anyone noticed the way that their touches lingered, or that their lips seemed particularly swollen, they didn’t say anything. However, Greg did think it was about time those two sorted themselves out and grinned at the thought that only those two would finally get it together whilst on a stake-out.


	26. Sherlock Gets a Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a cold and John deals with his dramatic arse...

Sherlock Holmes never got ill. In fact, he prided himself on his robust immune system. However, after one particular case, where Sherlock had been plunged into the Thames by a person who had murdered their wife, in December, he was not well.

He woke up the morning after the case, after having had to have jabs at the hospital because of the Thames being so dirty, to find he felt like someone had stuffed cotton wool up his nose and into his sinuses. He rolled over in bed a groaned, which caused him to start coughing, which led to more groaning and more coughing. He felt like hell. He wrapped himself up in his bed sheet, even though he already had his pyjamas on, and made his way, slowly, to the living room. His legs felt like lead and it felt like there was a baby elephant residing on his chest.

“Ah, you’re up…”, John said, as he smiled, looking up from his paper. He frowned when he saw how pale Sherlock was, however. “Are you okay?”

“No, John… I think I’m dying.”, Sherlock rasped, his throat hoarse, before starting to cough again.

“I told you to be careful… Being plunged into the icy waters of the Thames will do this to you, Sherlock.”, John said.

“Everything hurts. Why does everything hurt?”

“It’s just a cold. They are very common at this time of the year. What’s your temperature like?”

“I feel freezing, John. Like there is ice running through my veins.”

John rolled his eyes and chuckled a little at Sherlock’s dramatics. “You’ll be fine in a few days. You’ve just got to ride it out. I’ll pop out in a bit and pick up some stuff that will help. I’ll get you drinking honey and lemon and you will be eating simple things like soup. I’ll just go and get my thermometer so I can check your temperature.”

John then left the room and made his way up the stairs to grab his stuff. He came back down with a digital thermometer and his stethoscope around his neck.

“Sit up for me.”, John asked, as Sherlock had sprawled himself along the sofa.

Sherlock sat up slowly, trying to hold in a groan, so it wouldn’t start off another coughing fit.

“Okay, temperature first…”, John said. He moved the curls from Sherlock’s ear and placed the end of the thermometer into Sherlock’s ear hole.

Once it beeped, to say it had a reading, John pulled it out, looked at it and frowned.

“You have a temp of 37.8 degrees Celsius.”, John informed his friend.

“How? I’m freezing.”

“It’s called a fever Sherlock. You need plenty of fluids. Here, drink this.”, John told him, handing him a fresh bottle of water, that had been on the desk.

Sherlock took the bottle and began taking little sips of the water, wincing a little as he swallowed, due to his swollen throat. As Sherlock was drinking, John placed the thermometer on the coffee table and began to warm the end of his stethoscope.

“You’re going to have to unwrap yourself, Sherlock, so I can listen to your chest. Need to check if any of the Thames got into your lungs. I’m sure it won’t have but, as you’re coughing, it’s safe to check.”

Sherlock simply nodded, before pulling his sheet from around his shoulders, and sitting more upright so John had access to his back and front. John carefully lifted the back of Sherlock’s t-shirt and began to examine his lungs. He listened carefully, at different points of his back, before moving to Sherlock’s front. There was a slight rasp, John recognised, when Sherlock was breathing, but there didn’t seem to be any other problems.

“You’re okay. There is a slight wheeze to your breathing, but that will be because of the cold.”, John explained. Sherlock just gave him a small nod in reply, before wrapping his sheet around himself again.

Once John put his medical supplies away, he got his coat and shoes on, and even borrowed Sherlock’s scarf, before venturing out to the shops, promising Sherlock he wouldn’t be gone long. He picked up some chicken soup, some honey and lemon, some throat lozenges and a bottle of cough syrup, before making his way home.

When John re-entered the flat, Sherlock was still lay on the sofa, with the blanket from the back of his chair wrapped around him too. John could barely see anything of Sherlock. He could just see his mop of curls poking out from the blanket mound, as he dozed. The image made John smile a little. Sherlock looked calm in his sleep. It was rare that Sherlock ever looked so serene. John put the shopping away, before making sure there was an extra bottle of water for Sherlock, on the coffee table, for when he woke up. He then sat and put the TV on, quietly, as his friend slept soundly. He felt glad that he was there, in order to look after Sherlock. His job as a GP finally coming in handy, to deal with post-case issues. He did know one thing, however. He knew that Sherlock wouldn’t be as keen to go near any icy water for a while and that he would learn his lesson. It was the first time John had ever seen Sherlock with so much as a sniffle, and he knew Sherlock was not happy about being ill.

John’s phone buzzed with a text.

Well, at least he might learn his lesson from this. Thank you for looking after him. I know he doesn’t make it easy. – MH

John smiled at the text, before turning his attention to the TV, his eyes drifting every couple of minutes to check on Sherlock.


	27. Trying To Be A Parent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie has done wrong tries to argue her way out of the consequences...

“And where do you think you’re going, young lady?”, John asked Rosie, as she tried to sneak down the stairs.

“I am going to Rachel. For that project.”, Rosie replied.

Sherlock sighed and braced himself. It was going to end up in a shouting match.

“No, you’re not.”

“But, Dad… Pa. Can’t you tell him?”

“Oh, no… Don’t drag me into this. This is between you and your Dad.”, Sherlock told her.

“But it isn’t fair.”, Rosie complained.

“If you hadn’t have lied about where you were last week, only to turn up at home at 7am, after your Uncle Mycroft had a search party out looking for you, mind, then you know I would let you out.”, John told his daughter.

“Please, Dad.”

“No. You went out last week, drinking and doing god-knows-what, with god-knows-who. You were told you weren’t going out past 11 for two weeks. That was the agreement. Now, seeing as it only happened last week, that time frame is not over yet.”

“I fucking hate you!”, Rosie yelled.

“Rosie. Do not talk to your Dad like that.”

“Fuck off! You’re not even my Dad!”, Rosie yelled, and Sherlock could tell she regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth, but it didn’t mean it stung any less.

“Oi! That’s enough. And that is no way to speak to your Pa, Rosamund Mary Watson-Holmes. Apologise. Now.”, John ordered.

Rosie was crying now, and simply ran to Sherlock, and dropped onto his lap, burying herself there. She had always done it, but it had been a while, since she was now 17.

“I’m sorry, Pa. I didn’t mean it. I love you. I am just annoyed.”, Rosie said, into Sherlock’s chest.

“Just be careful with what you say, Rosie. You know that your Dad is only doing what is best for you. We were worried sick last week when we couldn’t find you. You weren’t answering your phone, and you had lied about where you were going. You’re lucky, in a way. Your Dad could have placed a worse punishment at your feet.”, Sherlock muttered, quietly, stroking his daughter’s hair, as she sniffled.

“I know. I’m sorry, Pa.”

“So, you’ve said… I think you need to apologise to your Dad too, now, don’t you?”, Sherlock asked, as Rosie sat up. She nodded a little before climbing off his lap and going to stand in front of John, who was sat in his armchair.

“Dad, I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking. I know how much worry I put you through last week. I am sorry.”, Rosie apologised to John.

“Please, just think in future. If it wasn’t for your Uncle Myc, you could have been dead in a ditch last week, and we wouldn’t have known. We can’t lose you, Rosie. Not after everything we’ve been through to get to where we are today.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

John stood and hugged his daughter close. “Go on… Bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Rosie didn’t say anything. She simply picked up her bag off the floor and made her way upstairs to bed.

Once she was out of sight, John sighed, and moved to sit on Sherlock’s lap.

“I don’t know why she is being like this, Sherlock…”, John sighed.

“She is a teenager. It happens.”, Sherlock replied, as his fingers drew lines up and down John’s back, soothingly.

“You are her Dad, you know. And she loves you. She was just saying that to get the biggest reaction out of us.”, John said, burying his face in Sherlock’s neck.

“I know. I don’t take any of what she says to heart, when she is like this. Are you okay?”

“I will be. I’m tired.”

“Come on… Bed.”

“Sounds perfect.”


	28. Parent's Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock ends up being glad that John drags him to Rosie's parent's evening at school...

“Do I have to go, John?”, Sherlock asked for the tenth time, in as many minutes.

“Yes. Now, come on… It won’t be so bad.”

“They are just going to tell us how bright she is. We know she is clever, John. She read the entirety of the Harry Potter books, on her own, before the age of 7. We don’t need some idiot teachers trying to tell us to challenge her and stretch her. What other 10-year-old do you know who does the things she can, in a lab?”

“I know, Sherlock. Now, come on, or we’ll be late…”, John urged, practically pushing Sherlock out of the door, as he shoved his coat and arms into his arms.

The walk to the school was 20 minutes and, with it being a clear night, was actually rather enjoyable. It was enjoyable for John, at least. Usually, at pick up time, when they would make the walk together, Sherlock would hold John’s hand, their fingers laced together, or Sherlock would wrap an arm around John’s shoulder, pulling him close. That didn’t happen. Sherlock was in a strop.

As they came up to the gates, John pulled Sherlock to the side and said, “Behave, Sherlock.” John placed a quick kiss to Sherlock’s lips, before grabbing his hand and pulling him into the school grounds. Rosie was there, sitting in her classroom. John and Sherlock had opted for an early appointment, with a teacher, meaning that they could speak to her and then take Rosie home, so they didn’t have to go back and forth between the school and home.

“Ah, Mr and Mr Watson-Holmes, yes?”, Mrs Laniston, Rosie’s teacher, asked, greeting them.

“Obviously.”, Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes, just to get an elbow in his ribs from his husband.

“Yes, hello… Sorry about my husband. I’m sure you know of his reputation. He is having an off-day.”, John explained, which caused Rosie to scoff, only to receive a look from Sherlock, which shut her up straight away.

“No problem, Mr Watson-Holmes. Let’s take a seat, shall we?”, Mrs Laniston replied, smiling.

She sat behind her desk, and Sherlock and John then proceeded to sit next to Rosie, on chairs that were much too small, even for John, but Sherlock didn’t say anything. He just sighed as he sat, feeling like he was hovering just off the floor.

“Now, as you probably know, you have a very bright daughter, gentlemen.”, Mrs Laniston started. “She has been getting the highest grades the school has seen for a long time. We are worried about her, however, about when she is not learning. It seems that some of the pupils have taken it upon themselves, due to opinions planted into them from homophobic parents, to bully Rosie for having two dads.”

Sherlock’s eyes shot to Rosie, who seemed to find the hem of her skirt very interesting all of a sudden.

“Rosie-bear… Why didn’t you tell us?”, John asked his daughter calmly.

“They said that Mum was dead because she escaped from having to put up with me and that I am going to go to hell, with you both, because you’re both wrong. I didn’t want to worry you.”, Rosie explained.

“I trust that these children have been dealt with accordingly.”, Sherlock said, sternly, immediately glad that John had dragged him along, so that he had heard this news first-hand.

“They have. I want to apologise, personally. We did not know that these children were doing this, as Rosie didn’t tell us. If one of the staff hadn’t have overheard a situation at lunchtime yesterday, then we wouldn’t have known.”, Mrs Lanitson answered.

“It isn’t your fault… Rosie. Now, I’m not angry, sweetheart, but what else did they say?”, Sherlock asked his daughter.

“They, er, call me a freak because I am smarter than they are. They caught me, at lunch, reading a book I’d borrowed off Uncle Mycroft, about Aristotle and the classics. They said I was weird because I could understand the Greek.”

“You have been able to speak six languages, practically your whole life, Rosie. Do not, for one second, think you should stop doing because other people are making fun out of you for it.”, Sherlock said.

“I second that, Rosie-bear.”, John added.

“Look, gentlemen… I know this isn’t easy, but you can put in a complaint to the board, if you deem it necessary.”, Mrs Laniston said.

“No. That’s okay. She starts secondary school in September, anyhow. And she is going to somewhere that specialises in gifted children. My brother set up a fund for her, so she could go, for her fifth birthday.”, Sherlock replied.

“Very well. I am glad she is going there. I know the school you mean. She is perfect for it.”, Mrs Laniston smiled at Rosie, who gave her a weak smile in reply. “Okay, gentlemen, that’s all. There isn’t anything else you need to know. Thank you for coming in today.”

“Thank you, Mrs Laniston.”, John said, as they family stood. John shook the woman’s hand, as Sherlock picked Rosie’s backpack, and took her hand.

On the way home, not a word was uttered. Rosie clung to Sherlock’s hand, as they walked and John walked just behind the pair, trying to decide whether he was going to cry or not.

Once they had got home, and Rosie had changed out of her uniform, Sherlock called her over to him.

“Little bee? Can I speak to you for a minute?”, he asked. Rosie nodded and went to climb on her Pa’s lap, as John watched on, from the kitchen.

“You know, when I was your age, I was bullied for being clever too. In fact, I am still bullied now for it. But I have your Dad, and he believes that I am amazing. Rosie… You are clever. You are smart. You are beautiful. You are kind. You are caring… Promise me you’ll not change just because other, small-minded people, tell you to. You are not a freak, little bee. You are a star, yeah?”, Sherlock said.

“Yeah.”, Rosie nodded, playing with edge of Sherlock’s blazer, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Good girl.”, Sherlock grinned, before placing a kiss on Rosie’s forehead.

As John watched from the kitchen, a small tear escaped down his cheek. Sherlock was so good with her and knew exactly what it felt like to be called a freak, because John had been witness to when people had called him it. Snapping out of it, John made tea for Sherlock and himself and a hot chocolate for Rosie (her favourite comfort drink), before joining Sherlock and Rosie in the living room, where the family enjoyed a quiet night in together.


	29. Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock turns up to a crime scene without John after an argument and Molly leaves him to sulk in the corner of her lab until a visitor changes everything...

“We just don’t know how she died.”, Greg told Sherlock, as he looked around the room, they had found the body in.

“Her medication.”, Sherlock said immediately.

“Sorry?”

“She is on anti-depressants because of a miscarriage she suffered a year ago, but she was also taking tramadol. You aren’t supposed to take them together.”

“But she was a nurse. Surely she would have known that.”

“Exactly, which makes me think this was murder and that it has been made to look like an error. We’ll know more once a toxicology report is done. Is she being sent to Barts?”, Sherlock asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. That means Molly. Laters…”

“Sherlock? Where is John?”

Sherlock didn’t reply. He simply ignored Greg and left the house, finding a cab on the main road. He went straight to Barts, despite knowing it would be a few hours before the body of the poor woman would be moved from the crime scene.

That morning, he had woken up to an empty flat. The night before, he and John had an argument, and Sherlock was petrified as to their future friendship. Sherlock didn’t need to ask to know that John had taken off, when he had stormed out of the flat, to the flat of his latest girlfriend. Sherlock had simply huffed, plonked himself onto the sofa and not moved until the Lestrade had text him the next morning.

The argument was over something so small. Sherlock didn’t know why it bothered John so much. John had been sat on the sofa, reading, and Sherlock had wanted to sit there, so he had simply gone ahead and lay down. Then John got into an argument with him about personal space and had said about how his girlfriends all broke up with him because of stuff like that, before he had stormed out of the flat and hadn’t come back. Sherlock knew John was having troubles with his latest girlfriend, because of John forgetting a date whilst being on a case. Sherlock thought John was just deflecting his feelings about that onto Sherlock, so he had someone to blame.

Sherlock entered the lab in his usual manner – by flouncing in, unannounced.

“Sherlock… I wasn’t expecting you today. Where’s John?”, Molly asked.

“We’re not joined at the hip.”, Sherlock replied.

“Yes, you are. Argument, was it?”

“Of sorts.”

“You here for the girl that’s just been found? She won’t be in for a few hours yet.”

“I know.”

“So, you’re avoiding the flat, in case John comes back. I’m guessing he stayed at Mellie’s last night then?”

“Can we not talk about John, please? Do you still have the cultures I was working on?”

“They are in the second fridge, bottom shelf. Are you okay?”

Sherlock didn’t reply. He simply helped himself to his experiments and set up on the work bench in the corner. He then began his work, in silence, with his back turned to Molly. Molly watched him for a moment, as he looked through a microscope. She was worried about him. Despite her own feelings towards him, which she knew would never be requited, she knew that John meant a lot to Sherlock. The fact that he was brooding in the corner of her lab, way before the body for the case he was on was due to come in, wasn’t good. She knew Sherlock. He was heartbroken.

Molly’s phone buzzed in her pocket.

Is Sherlock with you? – GL

Yes – Mol

John has been looking for him at the Yard. Shall I send him over? – GL

I’m not sure. He is brooding in the corner, doing an experiment. What happened? – Mol

He wouldn’t say. Didn’t even reply when I mentioned John – GL

He shot me down when I tried to talk about it to him. He is besotted – Mol

I know. And John is too blind to see it. Must have been to do with his latest missus. John missed a date last week. Completely forgot about it, in fact, because he was running around with Sherlock -GL

Send John over. They need to talk about this – Mol

Molly put her phone away and got on with some work, quietly. About half an hour later, a certain Army doctor appeared.

“Hey, Mol.”, he said, as he passed her.

“Hi, John. How is Mellie?”, she asked.

“We are no longer together. Broke up with her this morning.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It was for the best. Have you seen Sherlock? Greg said he is here.”

“Yeah. He’s in the far corner of the lab.”

“Thanks.”

Joh wandered to the back corner of the lab, which was around the corner from where Molly was working. Sherlock didn’t acknowledge his presence. He simply carried on with whatever it was that he was doing.

“Sherlock.”

“So, you’re talking to me now then?”, Sherlock said, not looking up.

“Please, Sherlock, can we not do this?”

“You broke up with Melissa. My condolences.”

“You know she was called Mellie. Stop being obtuse. And yes, I broke up with her.”

“My fault again, I presume?”, Sherlock asked, finally turning to face John, and crossing his arms across his chest.

“In a way, yes.”

“For God’s sake, John. You don’t have to chase me around London.”

“That’s not why I broke up with her, Sherlock.”

“Then why is it my fault? I was nicer to this one.”

“I broke up with her because I realised that if continue to ignore how we feel about each other then we’re not going to get anywhere.”

“I, uh, what?”

“You heard me.”

“I, uh, John, I don’t…”

“Sherlock… I love you. Have done ever since you told me my life story. You’re amazing, Sherlock.”, John said, stepping closer to Sherlock, who was stood frozen to the spot.

“John, I…”

“Just come here.”

John pulled Sherlock closer, one hand on his cheek, the other resting on his hip, and placed a soft kiss to his lips. Sherlock responded by drooping his arms across John’s shoulders, one hand burying in his hair, as he pulled him as close to him as humanly possible.

“Sherlock… The body from the crime scene this morning has just arrived.”, Molly shouted through.

“I’ll be five minutes.”, he shouted back, his lips millimetres from John’s.

“Five minutes, eh?”, John chuckled.

“Shut up, John.”, Sherlock replied, sighing, before pulling him for a searing kiss.


	30. Morning Forecast: Slightly exhausted with 100% chance of needing coffee (scattered sarcastic comments through the afternoon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is attentive and John couldn't be more grateful...  
> (Side note: It's my 21st birthday as I'm posting this - hope you enjoy!)

John Watson climbed the stairs to 221B as though his legs were made of lead. Chasing criminals around London was exciting and thrilling, but when the adrenaline wore off, and all he was left with was tiredness that settled in his bones, he was not exactly the happiest or chirpiest person on the planet.

Sherlock Holmes, being used to not sleeping as much as John anyway, was still babbling about this and that as he followed John up the stairs to their flat.

“Do you not think so, John?”, Sherlock asked, and John looked at him confused.

“Sorry, Sherlock. I was miles away. What were you saying?”

“I was just saying how Greg seems to be more chipper now he and Mycroft are living together. It was bad enough when they first got together. Now they are living together, it is insufferable.”

“Well, he is just happy. Leave him be.”, John replied, as he plonked into his chair, not even bothering to remove his coat. He knew he would have to be leaving again with the hour, to cover a shift at the surgery, so he didn’t see the point.

Sherlock watched John warily, as he took his coat and scarf off and hung them up.

“Coffee?”, Sherlock asked.

“That would be perfect, love.”, John sighed. He had closed his eyes and was resting his head on the back his chair.

“I will go and pick Rosie up from Molly’s once you’re at the surgery.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t go to sleep, John. You’ll feel even worse if you nap and then have to get up. You need to wait it out.”

John sighed and lifted his head, opening his eyes.

“I don’t know how you do it, Sherlock. I am so bloody tired.”

“I don’t sleep as much as you, anyway. Plus, you have been on the go for 20 hours. And you have another 6 to go before you even leave the surgery.”, Sherlock commented, as he set about making coffee.

“Do you think Rosie will have been alright at Molly’s?”

“Yes. She always is.”

“Yeah. Good…”

“I think I am going to take her to the park today. Feed the ducks. It’ll be nice to get a bit of fresh air.”

“Sounds lovely, love.”

“We can stop by the surgery for when you finish as well. Meet you and then we can walk home together. Then I can sort Rosie out whilst you get some well-deserved sleep.”

“Thanks, love. That sounds perfect.”

“Okay, love.”, Sherlock said, with a small smile. He loved how affectionate his partner when he was tired. He knew, however, how irritable he could also be, so it was best to stay on his good side, when he was feeling that way.

John did his shift at the surgery. He drank his coffee, before he left the flat, and stopped off at the corner shop on his way to work and picked up some energy drinks. He knew they were not good for him but, in that moment, he found he couldn’t care less. His patients got away with not being snapped at too much. One particular patient, however, who had consulted Doctor Google before arriving for their appointment was put in their place, with John’s sarcasm being at his finest. It was his second to last appointment of the day and he just wanted to get home to his partner, child and bed. But mainly his bed.

Sherlock showed up, with Rosie settled nicely in her pram, at exactly the moment he finished with his last patient. John smiled and made his way over to them, placing a kiss to Rosie’s forehead and stealing a kiss from Sherlock’s lips (which caused the detective to blush profusely). They then made their way home and, as promised, Sherlock placed a kiss on John’s forehead, once he had changed into his pyjamas and took care of Rosie whilst John went to bed. 5 hours later, when Sherlock joined him, John didn’t even stir. He slept straight through to the next day, when he was woken by soft kisses peppering his neck, just the way he liked.

“Morning, love. Thank you for yesterday.”, John said, pulling Sherlock closer.

“You’re welcome, love. I know you needed it.”

“What’s the plan for today?”

“Well, Mummy rang and said something about a carnival, near their house, if we wanted to travel down? She said we can stay the night. Thought Rosie might enjoy it.”

“Sounds perfect.”

They travelled to Sherlock’s parent’s house, and made the most of the carnival, with John winning a stuffed pirate, for Sherlock, and Sherlock winning a goldfish, for Rosie, which was named Bob, and would be travelling back to London with them. John was so unbelievably grateful for Sherlock and it was that day, at the carnival, that John took out a ring box, got down on one knee, and asked Sherlock to marry him. The detective cried – actually cried – tears of joy as he accepted, and the pair celebrated whilst Sherlock’s parents looked after Rosie.


	31. Cool Breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a case at a seaside town and John takes time to explore the area...  
> (Side Note: 29th of Jan... Happy John and Sherlock meeting Day!)

John stood at the top of the sand dunes and smiled, as his breathed in the sea air. He loved the smell of the sea. The small town they were in, on the west coast of Northern England, was adorable. It was near Blackpool, which was famous for its Illuminations, but far enough away to be separate, and a little quieter. Sherlock had taken the case due to it being an interesting one. John had encouraged it, in the hope that the case would be solved quickly, and they could make a small holiday out of it. With it being September, all the children had gone back to school, but the weather was still warm enough to enjoy the sea front. John was slightly upset that they’d have to leave Rosie in London, under the care of her Uncle Mycroft, so she could attend school, as he knew she would love it.

Sherlock was off sleuthing, leaving John the opportunity to explore a little. There was a park, with a lake, where people could hire little boats and go punting. The park had a play area, a paddling pool (which had been cleared after the summer season) and a café. John walked through the park, enjoying the fresh air, that was so much clearer than it was in London. He stopped off at the café, and treated himself to a latte to take away, and continued his walk. He went onto the dunes and then headed back to the small B&B they were staying at, whilst they were there.

Sherlock was not there he got back, but John wasn’t expecting him to be. Due to the nature of the case, John knew very little about it. In fact, he wasn’t really needed at all. He sat for around half an hour, looking at the TV in the corner of the room, which was switched on, but he wasn’t really watching it. He then got a phone call.

“John.”

“Sherlock. Are you okay?”

“Case is solved. I’ll be back soon. I thought, maybe, if you, er, wanted to, that we could go on to Blackpool. Maybe get fish and chips and have a walk down the front.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Brilliant. I will be half an hour, at most.”

“Okay.”

John then sat there with a grin, until he heard the door go, about 20 minutes later. Sherlock entered the room with his usual grace and gave John a smile.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

They got a taxi, which didn’t take that long at all, before getting out near Blackpool tower.

“I never got to come here as a kid, what with us living in the South. We always went to Brighton.”, Sherlock told John, as they began their walk.

“I only came here a few times, with my grandparents. They lived in Preston, so it isn’t too far. When they died, we didn’t come anymore.”, John replied.

They walked in a comfortable silence, until they got to the roundabout, before they looped back, and walked down the side, where the shops were.

“Fish and chips?”, Sherlock asked, gesturing at a small fish shop, on the corner of the road they’d just crossed.

“Definitely.”

They bought their food and crossed the road again, so they were sat on a bench, looking out over the water, just as the sun began to set.

“I think Rosie will like it here.”, Sherlock commented, between mouthfuls of chips.

“I do too. There is so much to do up here. There is Blackpool Pleasure Beach, you know, with all the roller coasters, and there is the Sandcastle, which is an indoor waterpark. I was thinking… We could maybe come up during October half-term.”

“Sounds like a plan, to me. Do you think she’s okay under the care of Mycroft? I always found him insufferable when he babysat me.”

“Rosie adores Mycroft and you know it, Sherlock. And he adores her too. There is nothing to worry about.”

When they had finished eating, they began walking again, until they found themselves opposite the tower, once more. The lights had been put on, and the tower was lit up like a Christmas tree. John looked at up at it, smiling. He turned his head to find Sherlock looking at him.

“What?”

Sherlock blushed and looked away. “Nothing…”

“Sherlock…”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”, Sherlock said.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I can have you so close all of the time, anymore, without doing this…”

Before John knew it, he felt Sherlock’s hands on his cheeks, with his lips getting closer to his. John grinned, closing the gap, finally kissing Sherlock. Sherlock seemed to melt into the kiss, as John took the lead. They pulled away, breathless, and John let out a shiver.

“Are you cold?”, Sherlock asked, quickly removing his coat and placing around John’s shoulders.

“Thank you.”, John said, simply, with a smile, before placing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Does this mean…”

“That I have been wanting to do that for years too? Yes, Sherlock. Yes, it does.”

“Good.”

They then got another taxi, back to the B&B, with John making Sherlock promise that they could spend the next day at the theme park.


	32. The Brother of a Junkie

The first time they met was directly after Sherlock had turned up to a crime scene. Sherlock was off his tits on drugs (which drugs, Greg didn’t know, but he was sky high). He was on a case where a woman had died of hypothermia in a sauna and it was baffling everyone. That is until Sherlock Holmes appeared and told him what had happened and how. It didn’t make sense but made total sense at the same time. It was when he got back to his office that he found Mycroft Holmes sat at his desk, his back poker straight, with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade…”, he said, more like a statement than anything else.

“Yes. And, you are?”, he asked, confused to find someone in his office, let alone sat at his desk like the office was theirs rather than his.

“An interested party. Sherlock Holmes just solved your case, did he not?”, Mycroft had asked.

“He did… How did you know?”, Greg asked.

“Like I said. I am an interested party. I want you to keep letting him help. However, if he is high, you must refuse him access. Put him in a cell for the night, if you must.”

“Why do you care so much? He’s just a junkie.”

“He’s my brother.”, Mycroft replied, and that is the first time Greg saw any kind of emotion on the man’s face. He could only describe it as deep concern. And that is the moment Greg understood.

“Right. Well then, I will do as you have asked.”, Greg said, seriously.

“It is much appreciated. I will leave you with my card. If he ends up in a cell, please give me a call.”, Mycroft then said, before dropping his card on the desk and leaving the office without a goodbye.

“Well, that was weird.”, Greg huffed, as he sat down behind his desk.

The second time they met was not under the best of circumstances. Sherlock had turned up at a crime scene, absolutely off his tits on drugs, and had started vomiting in an alley near-by. He then went into having convulsions and it was then that Greg realised that he was overdosing. He immediately went into to battle stations, dragging Sherlock to his car and abandoning the investigation to get him to hospital. By the time they got there, Sherlock was near critical and the nurses and doctors were thanking Greg because they might not have been able to do anything if he’d have brought him in any later. He rang the number, which he saved to his phone one optimistic afternoon, and Mycroft answered within two rings.

“Detective Inspector. How can I help you?”, he asked, smoothly.

“It’s Sherlock, he…”

“Which hospital?”, came the interrupted reply.

“Barts. ICU. He’s overdosing.”, Greg told him quickly.

“Please stay with him, Gregory. I’ll be with you shortly.”, Mycroft replied, before hanging up and leaving Greg stood on the corridor. Greg tried to get into to ICU to be with Sherlock but was not allowed due to him not being immediate family.

“Please, his brother is on the way and has asked me to stay with him. Please, he’s got no one else. Let me in. Please. I am a high-ranking police officer.” No matter how hard he tried he wasn’t allowed in.

When Mycroft arrived, Greg was sat on the floor, against the wall, opposite the door to ICU, waiting.

“Greg? Why are you out here?”, Mycroft asked. He was wearing a three-piece black suit, with a bow tie. It was clear that he had just left something important to be with his brother.

“They wouldn’t let me in because I’m not family. I tried to pull rank, but it didn’t work.”, Greg told him, standing up.

“Well, in the future, you will be allowed in. I shall have it seen to.”, Mycroft said. “I’m assuming that they wouldn’t tell you anything either?”

“No.”

“I’ll find out and let you know. Thank you for this, Detective Inspector.”, Mycroft said, smiling a little, but the worry was emanating from the man.

“Greg is fine, Mr Holmes.”

“Mycroft, please. Right, I need to get this seen to.”, Greg nodded and then was left alone on the corridor whilst the eldest Holmes went to see how his brother was.

From that day on, they were the first port of call for each other, for anything Sherlock related. Greg had thrown Sherlock in a cell, on more than one occasion, and Mycroft would be the one to bail him out. He’d turn up in his suit, despite the early hours (sometimes) and then take his brother home to his house. When Sherlock had been forced into rehab by his older brother, one hot, summer night, Mycroft showed up at the Yard, to tell Greg. That was the first time Greg saw Mycroft cry. Greg shut the door to his office, making sure the blinds were shut on all of the windows, looking in, and then held the elder Holmes as he sobbed. Things were never quite the same after that. The rest, they say, is history.


	33. Sherlock undercover

“Dad? Where is Pa?”, Rosie asked John.

“He’s on a case, chick. Going undercover in a philharmonic orchestra.”

“Is he really?”

“Well I did just say so, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but does that mean I’ll get new music?”

“I imagine so.”

Rosie had been playing the violin, like her Papa, since she was 4 years old. She had mastered Bach and was particularly fond of playing pieces of Tchaikovsky’s ballets. Sherlock had been more than happy to indulge his daughter with all of the music he could find, and they even composed together. When Sherlock and John had finally got married, when Rosie was 10, she had composed and performed the piece for their first dance, much like Sherlock had done for her Mum and Dad.

A month into being undercover, Sherlock had to perform, as a part of the Proms, and Rosie was nearly jumping around from excitement, despite her being 14, as Rosie and John had been gifted a box, due to Sherlock’s involvement in the case. John, who could appreciate classical music but wasn’t as fond of it as his daughter or husband, was looking forwards to seeing Sherlock play as a part of an orchestra. They were also being joined by Mycroft, Greg and Mrs Hudson, due to them having the whole box to fill. One afternoon, Rosie met John after school, and they went shopping for new clothes to wear, for their box experience.

Rosie found a dress, almost immediately, that she loved, and John smiled as his excited daughter squealed, and he tried not to wince as he paid for it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it. It was more that he was used to not paying the earth for one item of clothing. He knew his husband was the opposite, with his bespoke suits and tailored shirts, but John was happy enough to buy his clothes from shops on high street and buy a whole wardrobe full of clothes for what it would cost for one of Sherlock’s shirts alone. They then went onto the tailors, where John had made an appointment, and John got a new suit, which was going to be a surprise to his husband. He was even going to keep it in Rosie’s wardrobe instead of his shared one, with Sherlock, as Rosie’s room was off-limits to her Papa.

The night of the performance came around. John, Rosie and Mrs Hudson were picked up by Mycroft and Greg, in one of Mycroft’s posh black cars, and they then made their way across London to the Royal Albert Hall. A member of the front of house team met them in the foyer, and led to their box, where there was free champagne, chocolates and Philharmonic merchandise (which the adults were happy to give to Rosie). Mycroft poured the champagne, and John let Rosie try some of his, but she quickly pulled a face that said she didn’t like it, and she stuck to the lemonade she had (which had also been provided free of charge).

Once the lights went down, and they began to play, John zoned in on Sherlock and watched, mesmerised, as his husband kept up with the professionals around him. Not that John had any doubt that he would be able to, but it made him smile, all the same. He glanced to his daughter, who was watching, with glee in her eyes, and Mycroft and Greg were sat, Greg’s hand on Mycroft’s thigh, with Mycroft’s hand resting on top. They looked content. Mrs Hudson looked as if she was enjoying it too, as she clutched her champagne glass in her hands.

Everything went quiet for a moment, and Sherlock stood up, watching the musical director keenly, for his cue. Sherlock hadn’t said anything about a solo, but he was definitely stood, playing on his own, to thousands in the Royal Albert Hall. John felt a swell of pride in his chest, and tears threatened to escape down his cheeks. He glanced at Rosie, who was sat, in awe, with her mouth wide open. It was clear that she would be bragging about this to her friends for years to come. Not only was her Papa the world’s only consulting detective, but he had also played a solo at the Royal Albert Hall, during the proms. She was astonished. Mrs Hudson was openly crying, by the end of it, and even Mycroft was wiping away a stray tear. Sherlock finished the piece with a flourish, before looking directly at the box they were sat in. He blew them a kiss, with a smile, and then sat down again. The members of the orchestra around him were also clapping. The woman sat directly next to him placed a quick squeeze to his shoulder and Sherlock gave her a genuine smile. John knew how lucky he was to have such a husband. He was beyond in love with him. And so was his daughter. She had jumped onto her feet to clap for her Papa’s solo, with tears running down her face.

“That was beautiful, Sherlock.”, John told him, later that night, after Sherlock had made full advantage of John in a new suit.

“What, the sex or…”, Sherlock asked with a chuckle.

“You know what I meant. I’m truly lucky to have you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, John. It is me who is lucky to have you.”


	34. Rosie has some news

Rosie sat on her bed, scrolling through her phone, trying to put off the inevitable. Her Dad and Pa were back from the case they had been on. She had heard them come in. It didn’t mean she was any less scared though. It wasn’t that she didn’t think they would accept what she had to tell them. It was more that the whole situation was stressing her out. She had spoken to Molly about it. Molly, being her godmother, and only female figure in her life, apart from her grandmother and Nana Hudson, was more than happy to sit with Rosie and talk through things with her. It had helped her massively. She didn’t think her Pa would be particularly happy that she had told Molly about it first, but he would just have to get over it.

“Rosie! Dinner will be ready in 5 minutes!”, her Dad shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay!”, she shouted back, before sighing. She knew her Pa would know something was up with her as soon as she went downstairs, so she pocketed her phone, took a deep breath and then made her way downstairs.

She sat on the sofa, watching whatever was on the television with unseeing eyes.

“Rosie. What’s the matter?”, her Pa asked almost immediately.

“Has something happened?”, her Dad added.

“I have something to tell you.”, she said, not looking up from where she had fixed her gaze at her hands in her lap.

“Well, that sounds ominous. What’s wrong?”, her Dad asked, trying to be light-hearted about the situation. Sherlock, however, sat, watching his daughter, with worry. She was never like this. Her body language was all wrong and she looked as though she was ready to burst into tears.

“I, well, I think that I am, no… I know that I am bisexual. And I have been seeing this girl. And she is amazing, and I don’t know. I didn’t want you to think that I am just a lesbian, not that there is anything wrong with that, of course, but I wanted you to know that I am bisexual and that I like boys and girls. Well, it’s like 70% girls and 30% boys, but I didn’t want you to find out from the press, or whatever, because you know what they are like for following me because of you guys and, well, I just, yeah. I am bisexual.”, Rosie babbled, turning bright red.

“Oh, Rosie… You know that I am bisexual and that your Pa is gay. Hell, even Uncle Greg and Uncle Myc are both bisexual. We aren’t going to judge you for something that you can’t control. You are attracted to who you are attracted to.”, John said, feeling a little twang of hurt that his daughter felt she couldn’t tell him sooner.

“It isn’t that I didn’t think you would support me. It’s just, well, this guy at college said that it made sense that two poofs would raise another poof, and it made me mad. I just, well, I know people will always be horrible and close-minded, but I just wanted to tell you. In case someone like him decided to out me. Not that I mind being outed. I just didn’t want to be before I told you. And Pa, I know what you’re thinking… I am not going to tell you the name of the boy.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything.”, Sherlock protested, but his smirk gave it away.

“Oh, yeah… And we are a household of straight, law-abiding citizens.”, Rosie joked, causing Sherlock and John to laugh.

“So, Rosie-bear… When can we meet her?”, John asked.

“Er, what?”, Rosie said, in a panic.

“When can we meet your missus. You know you can bring her around here anytime you want to right. At least we don’t need to give you the talk.”, John grinned, knowing it would embarrass his daughter.

“Dad! That’s gross. I’m 17. You don’t need to give me a top-up on the birds and the bees, thank you very much.”, Rosie squealed, turning bright red.

“But we are going to get to meet her, yes?”, John asked.

“Yeah, I guess. But only if Pa agrees to not grill her and scare her off. I really like her.”

“I promise, Rosie, that I will not grill your girlfriend, if it means your Dad gets his dream of meeting his future daughter-in-law.”

“I’m not quite sure about future in-law, Pa, but thank you. Means a lot.”

“Anything for you, little bee.”

“You haven’t called me that in ages.”

“Doesn’t matter how old you are. You will always be my little bee.”, Sherlock smiled.

“Sofa snuggle?”, Rosie asked, a little apprehensively. It was something they used to do when she was little.

“Aren’t you a little big for that now?”, John chuckled.

“You’re never too old for a sofa snuggle, Dad.”, Rosie smiled.

Half an hour later, John and Sherlock were sat side-by-side on the sofa, and Rosie was lay across them. It was a bit difficult, now she was practically an adult, but they made it work. John stole a quick glance at his husband, who was watching television, whilst absent-mindedly playing with strands of Rosie’s hair – something they had done since Rosie being a baby – and he smiled. He was glad his daughter had become comfortable in herself enough to accept it and tell them. It made him happy that his daughter had done the thing he hadn’t dared to do, at his age. He was so unbelievably proud of her.


	35. I Have You Two

From the moment that Rosie, aged five, first watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, she was in love. The songs made her jump around with glee; the flying car had her staring in awe at the screen. Of course, when Sherlock found out that the stage version of the show was coming to the West End, for a limited run, he booked tickets immediately. At this point, Rosie was only 7, but Sherlock knew she would be able to handle sitting quietly through the performance, once she was enraptured with the colours and lights. She loved the dancing and had wanted to begin lessons as soon as she could get them. Sherlock, once again, happily obliged as he had danced when he was younger and had loved it. It was the freeing nature of it that he adored.

John was amused by the whole idea of Sherlock becoming a ballet Dad. Due to John working in the A&E at Barts (a job that Mycroft had been able to get him in for), Sherlock did all of the dropping off and picking up for the classes and often waited around in the waiting area whilst Rosie did her lesson. He found the way the mothers cooed over him irritating but he got enough scandalous information just by looking at them that, if they ever tried anything, then he would quite happily spread their little secrets to the other mums. Dance mothers were ruthless.

The day of the theatre trip was a big one, for Rosie. The song in the show, about it being the three of them had been adopted by the Watson-Holmes household and Rosie was often found humming it to herself as she did her homework or helped Sherlock with an experiment. It had become their anthem, in a way. Rosie was so well-behaved throughout the watching of the show, only speaking when she whispered, “It’s our song, Papa.”, to Sherlock, when their song began. Sherlock had to admit that it was a good production. As much as musical theatre wasn’t his thing, every moment was worth it for seeing the look on Rosie’s little face, as the car began to fly in the theatre. She was astounded and mesmerised. John had watched his husband and daughter with a smile, as they chatted about the costumes and dancing and singing, as they all ate a tiny, overpriced ice cream each, in the interval.

“Papa. I know cars cannot really fly, but isn’t it a good story?”, Rosie said, as she bobbed up and down on Sherlock’s shoulders. They were walking from the theatre to the tube station and Sherlock had immediately pulled Rosie up onto his shoulders, as he knew she would start whining if she had to walk too far.

“It certainly is.”, Sherlock replied, with a smile.

“What did you think Daddy?”, Rosie asked John.

“I enjoyed it very much, Rosie.”

Due to Sherlock opting to take Rosie to a matinee performance, it was still light outside, and Rosie had to rush to get her ballet things, once they were back home, as she still had her ballet class that evening.

“Come on, Rosie! We are going to be late, if you don’t hurry!”

“Someone to care for. To be there for. I have you two. Someone to do for. Muddle through for. I have you two.”, Rosie sang happily, as she made her way down the stairs.

“I’m starting to think that taking her on a ballet day was a bad idea.”, Sherlock muttered to his husband, causing John to chuckle.

“I’ll see you when you get back. Do you need anything from Tesco whilst I’m there?”, John asked Sherlock.

“Just some ginger nuts. Rosie ate the last of them.”, Sherlock replied.

“Okay, love. See you later.”, John said, before placing a kiss to Rosie’s cheek, and a chaste kiss to Sherlock’s lips, before Sherlock took Rosie’s hand and they set off to dance.

“Mr Watson-Holmes? Can I have a word?”, Rosie’s dance teacher, Natalie, asked, at the end of class.

“Sherlock, please. And, of course.”

“It is just that, well, Rosie told us all about your trip to the theatre this afternoon, and well, I know that they are doing auditions for a new batch of urchin children, in two weeks. I can get all of the information for you, if you think that is something that Rosie would love? She is fully capable. She can sing. And she can certainly dance well enough.”

“Well, I shall have to talk to my husband about it, but I am sure that would be amazing. Thank you.”, Sherlock replied.

“Brilliant. So, if you talk to your husband and then send me message? You have my number, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Fab. I look forward to hearing from you. Well done today, Rosie. You’re really progressing in time for your exam.”

All the way home, as Rosie hummed to herself happily, Sherlock seemed to be a little dazed. He wasn’t sure how John would take such a request but hoped that he would allow Rosie to audition. After all, an audition didn’t mean that she would definitely get the part, right?

Four months later, Sherlock and John were back in the auditorium, ready to watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Except, this time, they were joined by Sherlock’s parents and Mycroft and Greg. Rosie wasn’t with them. That’s because Rosie was sat patiently back stage, waiting for her turn to shine.


	36. Coronavirus

March 2020:

So, as you all know, we are now in a national lockdown. Rosie, of course, is too young to fully understand what is going on but understands that we have to stay inside. Mycroft has been kind enough to set up a food delivery for us, so we don’t even need to go out shopping. Sherlock, of course, is sulking. He doesn’t like the fact that the amount of police has been limited on crime scenes and that he isn’t getting a look in. Luckily, I have some masks, from my doctor days, so we wear them when we go out. Hoping it becomes mandatory for everyone to be wearing them soon.

April 2020:

Sherlock is driving me up the wall. He just can’t sit still. I know he thinks he is hiding it, but he has definitely started smoking again. I’m just grateful that he doesn’t do it anywhere near Rosie. Not that he would, of course. They adore each other. Rosie seems to be the only thing that is keeping him from going off the rails completely, which I am glad of.

May 2020:

Working 12 hour shifts in a hospital, in full PPE, is not something I ever thought I would have to do again. It’s so hard. And people are breaking the rules constantly and I feel like screaming at them. The people on the wards I am working on are so ill. They are dying. It is heart-breaking. I just hope this will be all sorted soon. Everyone is getting bored of it, but it doesn’t mean we can slack off. I am just hoping I don’t get it and take it home. I don’t want Rosie to get this. Or Sherlock. I have seen him nearly dying in a hospital bed too many times already. I don’t want to see it again.

June 2020:

Well, happy wedding day to me. Sherlock and I were supposed to be getting married this month, but with the restrictions, we decided to wait until we could have everyone there. So, it looks as though we’ll be getting married in 2025, at this rate. Mycroft is working his arse off, trying to whip the government into shape. I just hope they start listening to him soon.

July 2020:

Sherlock has coronavirus. He is currently lay in bed, struggling to breath and coughing his guts up. Rosie has been staying downstairs with Mrs H, who has been a god send, and I have been looking after him. I haven’t tested positive. But Sherlock is just so ill. His high temperature means his curls are sticking to his forehead and he is so pale. I have to fight with him to eat on a normal day, so I bet you guess what he is like at the moment. I just hope he recovers okay.

August 2020:

We had a semi-normal day, today. We took Rosie to the park, where she ran around for hours, and had an ice cream and then came home. It was nice. Luckily, Sherlock hasn’t got any long-term illnesses after having corona, but he does seem to get breathless quicker now. He gave up smoking again, luckily, as well. He had to when he had corona because he couldn’t face smoking on top of not being able to breathe anyway. So, in a way, some good has come out of him having it.

September 2020:

I am back in the hospital. The cases are on the rise again. I just hope we can get over this soon.

October 2020:

We didn’t take Rosie trick-or-treating. There was no point. We bought her a load of sweets and chocolate ourselves. We weren’t putting her at risk for the sake of dressing up and knocking on doors.

November 2020:

I’m sure the cold, winter air isn’t helping any of this.

December 2020:

It’s just been announced. We’ll be into a third lockdown from the start of January. And it looks as though it will take us through to March. Not looking forwards to this.

January 2021:

Coronavirus wards are resembling battlefields. And I should know. I have witnessed and worked through both.

February 2021:

Sherlock bought me a new watch for Valentines Day. It is engraved. On the back it says, “It is what it is”. I love it. He also bought some flowers. He has become a little soppy old man. I think the staying in doors has got to him in more ways than he might have thought.


End file.
